Cravings
by IDOL HANDS
Summary: Willy Wonka has held back his darker urges for too long. Can he find satisfaction in a word that ryhmes with substitute? SLASH, chan, shota, dark fiction, lemon
1. Part 1

**Title:** CRAVINGS

**By:** Idol Hands

**Rating:** R (for themes)

**Disclaimer:** The characters portrayed are not my property but that of the estate of R. Dahl, Tim Burton, Freddie Highmore and Johnny Depp. However, my sick imagination belongs to my demons and I.

**Warning:** Chan/under-aged boy, prostitution, Slash situations, Domination/Submission, very dark & kinky fiction.

**Summary:** What would you do if your desires couldn't be ignored anymore, but you didn't want to hurt the one that you loved? How about something that rhymes with 'substitute'?

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Money really could buy anything.

That fact becomes obvious when one sees the form of the frail boy who stands only a few feet away from Mr. Wonka. They stood silently examining each other in the main hallway of the factory. The waif-like child had only glanced briefly into the cold, dark violet eyes of the man who owned the colossal structure. There was darkness underneath all of that beauty, a strange distance in that gaze. Instinctually, he knew that he didn't like this fanciful man. Despite the warm temperature of the cavernous room, the boy shivered.

Mr. Wonka smiled at this, revealing his all-too-perfect teeth.

"He's just as you requested." Stated the man who had delivered the youth. The other man in the room was tall, had a shaven head, a jagged scar above his lip, a broad chest, muscular tattooed arms, and wore clothes suitable for a biker bar. He looked nothing like a person who should be in charge of children. Then again, perhaps neither did Willy Wonka.

"Indeed." Replied Wonka. His eyes stayed down-turned, examining the boy who refused to look at him. The child was of the approximate correct age, reached the height of his own chest, was malnourished, had fair skin, slightly overgrown chestnut hair and…

"Make him look at me." Wonka's voice was smooth but commanding. There was a falsetto to its timber, which might suggest that there was a kindness to him, but somehow it struck one as mechanical instead, as did his every movement inside those perfectly tailored clothes. The boy's eyes fell on the long cane that Wonka was slowly twisting by its top. He noticed that that the lavender glove matched the man's eyes and that it was made of latex. The child's small heart started to beat faster with anxiety. What had his Keeper sold him to?

The man nudged the boy's back. "He owns you now, listen to him." Slowly the child raised his eyes. They were a lovely shade of hazel green and quite large, perhaps the plain-looking child's best feature.

"Oh, Very nice." Willy Wonka's voice had gone slightly breathless and distant.

Now the child forced himself to fix his eyes onto the man's face, afraid to look away. He started at the tall wide-brimmed satin top hat with it's double layered hat-band trim, working his way down, he studied just the structure of his new owner's face. It was strong, yet beautiful; sculpted cheekbones, chiseled nose, and a square jaw. His hair had been shaped into a perfect bob. The cut ended just at the sides of that strong jaw, below his ears, covering them entirely. Not a single hair was out of place. Each and every one of the man's chocolate-colored strands gently flipped toward his face, creating a single, delicate curl on either side. The confection maker's skin was like porcelain, accenting his red-stained lips, and dark arched eyebrows, there was delicate shading around his eyes that could've been natural or enhanced. The boy couldn't help but be reminded of a vampire from books and movies that he had seen. He certainly felt like he was being drawn into those intense, glimmering eyes. Eyes that made promises you wished they wouldn't keep.

"Don't look so scared, little boy." He leaned slightly down towards the petrified youth, placing both hands on his cane for support. "We're going to have lots of fun today." The voice seemed especially gentle and his cheeks pushed up the skin under his eyes when he smiled. Despite an entire lack of color, the face suddenly seemed warm.

The boy very, very hesitantly returned the gesture with a small smile of his own.

"He doesn't have dimples." Came the sudden, and disappointed sounding, response.

The slim boy was finally released from Wonka's hypnotic gaze as the chocolatier turned up his head to focus on the child's Keeper. The child took the chance to also look at the man who had brought him to this desolate place. It was a pleading look and he shook his head nearly imperceptibly. He tried fruitlessly to telepathically communicate his thoughts to his ill-suited guardian.

It's not too late.

We could call off the deal and just go home.

Oh please, oh please, I don't like this strange man!

The large man shrugged, it seemed a response to them both.

It was an awful lot of money, the boy reminded himself.

The bald man retorted with, "I don't think you'll find one closer to your description and I've trained this one myself. I promise that he won't give you any trouble. He does everything he's told. He's very obedient."

Wonka put a hand to his jaw and looked at the child again. He noticed the child's fear, the slight swelling of water in his eyes and gentle upturning of his slim eyebrows. An intense feeling swept over him: the very same one that had compelled him to spend so much valuable time to make this rather unique arrangement in the first place. He couldn't wait any longer and the word 'obedient' rang in his mind. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, momentarily overwhelmed by emotion.

"You've talked me into it." Mr.Wonka coolly responded, opening his eyes. Then with more enthusiasm accented his decision, "It's a deal! He raised his hand into the air, without looking away from them, and flicked his hand. A small, quick scurrying sound could be heard a few yards behind the pair. They both turned but saw nothing other than a glass suitcase that had not been there seconds before. The crystalline object was filled to the brim with neatly wrapped piles of fresh paper money and one large chocolate bar. Wonka just couldn't resist.

The boy fought off his tears and his doubts. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Then he turned back around to look at that cane again, those perfectly polished glossy boots, the form-fitted leather pants with the complicated opening device, the long chains that came from the matching leather vest and led to god-knew-what. He had been loaned to many people, but never anyone quite like this. He remembered that his Keeper had said the interested buyer was someone who made candy. The boy had been excited at the time. How evil could a man who made candy be?

"I'll return for him at the arranged time." Stated the Keeper. He had already walked the distance to pick up the transparent suitcase.

"And he shall be here waiting for you." Wonka answered waving goodbye to the man with a slow motion of his free hand, the other hand crossing its fingers over the top of his cane. Sebastian was too busy watching the other man leave to notice.

"Just be careful on your way out, 'kay? Make sure you take the exact same path 'out' as you did 'in'. My factory can be a most dangerous place." Mr. Wonka warned. He had certainly not let them in through his front gates: that would have been too risky, even in the middle of the pitch-black night. They were permitted access through one of the countless secret passages that led inside and around the staggeringly complex facility.

"Don't worry, I can handle myself and I have an excellent memory." Scoffed the bulky man. With that he walked out of the room, not even bothering to say goodbye to the urchin that he had just sold. After all, it was just business, no need to be sentimental. Only the whirring sound of giant machines deep within the factory filled up the silence now. The boy kept his head turned until his Keeper was completely out of his vision, disappearing into the dark and winding hallways of the factory. He turned back to face the well-dressed man who was staring right at him, anticipating the return of the child's attention.

The boy's shoulders jerked involuntarily. The man in the elegant top hat just smiled that sweetly sick grin at him. Why should such perfectly white teeth be so frightening he wondered? Perhaps it was because they made him think of the big, bad wolf from 'Little Red Riding Hood'.

"So, whatcha' name, little boy?" Wonka asked glibly.

In a very soft voice, the boy responded, "Sebastian."

"Hmn!" Mr. Wonka made an approving chirpy noise. "Sebastian", he repeated slowly and stared intently into the boy's eyes again.

"Sebastian," He said with more emphasis "my name is Willy Wonka."

Sebastian's eyes widened and his gently curved mouth parted. He put the math together: the unknown wealthy candy-maker from the foreign land was… "You-You're THE Willy Wonka?" he gasped, his voice still gentle. The child's hands had darted out in front of his body, emphasizing his surprise at this discovery.

Wonka cocked his head to one side and had a befuddled look on his face. "My dear child, now why would you go and do something like that?"

Sebastian didn't have the slightest idea what he meant until he felt the sting of that cane on his extended hand.

"Whack!" the sound proceeded to echo all the way through the immense hallway.

He let out a very small yelp. It was hard not to cry, his prophecy had come true. The pale boy had suspected that whimsical cane all along. The sting of the hard plastic had reminded him what he had done wrong though. He only lowered his head and did not bother to admit his error, for that would have cost him another bit of punishment.

"You ONLY speak, WHEN spoken to, and even then, ONLY when I address a question to you PERSONALLY. Do you understand?" Mr. Wonka's voice had quickly lost its child-like quality, taking on an authoritative tone again.

The man in the top hat was quoting his Keeper word for word. Sebastian had come to hate the sound of his own voice from this part of his training. The blow to his hand had been his fault, he knew better than to speak out of line.

"Look, I'm flattered that ya heard of me, but yer gonna have to be a good boy from now on, allrighty?" the sudden return of the cheerful tone only succeeded in making the candy-man creepier still. He was impossible to predict.

The light brown-haired boy only nodded his head slowly in response, careful to look right at Mr. Wonka.

"Good! 'Cause I'd hate to have to do that again." He said in an animated tone, his features twisted into an exaggerated sad-face. It was then that the boy noticed how the man's face was like a floating mask. It was the only skin that was revealed on his entire body, his unique bob and the high-collars of his clothes only accenting that quality further.

Sebastian doubted Mr. Wonka's statement. This man seemed like someone who liked to delve out discipline, liked it a lot, and hadn't had a chance to do it in a while. The top of the boy's hand still stung and a pink mark could be made out under the stark lights.

"Very good. I think we understand each other now. Shall we proceed?", his voice was calm now. He almost sounded like an adult this time.

"Yes, please." Sebastian said very meekly.

Wonka gestured for the boy to walk in front of himself, stretching out his arms and relieving the cane of its pressure. The boy moved exactly as instructed, further down the hall, and deeper into the factory. Mr. Wonka's eyes eagerly followed his new purchase as soon as the boy's back was to him. Slowly they proceeded down the hall.

It turned out that the room was a massive optical illusion! What had appeared to be a giant hallway receding into some great distance was actually a slowly shrinking room. Soon, they were on top of a very small door, even smaller than the child. Mr. Wonka was very close to the boy, reaching carefully in front of him to open the tiny door with a tiny key from his large key ring. Sebastian turned his head tracing the chain that came from the key ring back to his vest pocket. Then noticed that the man's face had come quite close to his own, he smiled at the boy, his eyes glancing across the child's features. "Go ahead and take a look at what's inside."

When the boy looked forward there was an incredible vision in front of him. The tiny hallway suddenly turned into an enormous room, the size of a park, exploding with color and exotic growth, and the most incredible smell that he had ever breathed. The scent matched the chocolatier's exactly; intensely sweet, a musky odor of chocolate beans, mint, and a slight undertone of nuts and spices. Perhaps he was a strange-looking man, but he smelled as delightful as one of his confections.

Sebastian stepped into the room, but he was careful to do it without a word despite his awe. The noise of rushing water filled his ears. It was the sound of a large rushing waterfall, but where refreshing and clear water should have been was hot, thick liquid chocolate. Beautiful as the vision of the room was there was also an element of strangeness to the foliage. The colors were too bright, the growths twisted, the path undulated in an exaggerated manner, and the entire appearance was unnatural. Even the grass beneath his feet curled, more like hair or fur, than any lawn that he had ever seen. The room seemed alive, conscious even. He turned to look at his new owner, hoping for the explanation that he could not request. The man seemed enraptured by his own creation: a creation so similar to himself. It took Wonka a moment to turn his wide eyes down toward the boy, a broad pleased grin on his face.

"Ya like it?" He asked simply.

"It's incredible. Is-is it real?" The boy dared to inquire.

"It's a real fantasy come to life." The man answered, his eyes becoming dreamy. Quickly though, he widened his eyes again, leaned down and pointed, "Look over there!"

The child saw what appeared to be a fairy-book cottage just off to the right of them. The entire structure was warped and slanted. It looked as if it were on the verge of collapsing. The paint was flaking off and the poorly shingled roof was in dire need of repair, yet there was sweetness to its sadness. The child looked back at Wonka who motioned for him to walk forward again.

Upon entering through the heavily slanted door of the house, a large single room became visible. The room contained a tired, large empty bed, and a big rectangular rustic table in front of a modest kitchen (set-up in the corner). Another mattress lay off to the side on the floor. There was also a ramshackle bunk bed area above him, accessed through a scrawny wooden ladder. Sebastian thought there were an awful lot of beds, but concentrated his attention on the perfectly laid out meal upon the table. There was a single bowl of steaming soup, a hunk of dark bread with butter, and a bar of chocolate: specifically 'Whipplescrumptous Fudgemallow Delight'. He blinked in confusion. Who had laid out the meal? The home appeared abandoned, but had been kept quite clean.

"Go ahead, sit down." Wonka said with that breathless tone he had when he first saw the lad's eyes. The boy really was famished. His Keeper had been restricting Sebastian's humble diet even further since the candyman had expressed interest in wanting one of his boys off the internet. The boy sat down in the rickety, straight-backed wooden chair. Willie Wonka took off his top hat and placed his cane against the wall. A wave of relief went through the boy. Then Wonka took a seat right next to the boy.

Sebastian was about to pick up the large metal spoon, but a hand gripped the back of his hair and pulled him back.

"Did I SAY you could eat yet?" He asked sharply, still holding his head back. The boy was shaking slightly from the shock of being touched by him.

"No." The boy responded humbly. The gloves released their grip with a squelch noise.

"Ah, shouldn'tcha say yer prayers first?" He asked as a parent might.

Sebastian was shocked, this strange man who hired him to do any perverted thing he wanted, was concerned with God? Then again, praying about now didn't seem like such a bad idea. He clasped his hands together, closed his eyes and bent his head down. Mr. Wonka did not, he only watched intently. Then he reached out and straightened the locks of hair that his grasp had displaced. His face looked entranced as Sebastian peeked at him. He wondered how long he should pray? Almost as if Wonka could read his thoughts, the musical voice said, "OK, that's good enough. You may eat now."

The boy again picked up his spoon at the single place setting. He took a large sip of the soup and tasted cabbage, mostly cabbage, with some onion and potato…and a little salt. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't fancy either. Why couldn't the rich man have given him seafood or a big, juicy steak? Wonka had leaned his elbow on the table, his hand against his face, holding him up while he watched the child's every movement. It was very discerning to see someone take such joy in the mere act of watching him eating food. After a few more mouthfuls Mr. Wonka spoke again, "Wait."

The boy immediately stopped eating and turned to face the man next to him.

"Something's not quite right." He said, a deeply thoughtful look upon his mask-like face. There was something just slightly less imposing about him without the top hat. The boy looked at his jagged bangs brushing only an inch of his forehead. The rest of his brow was bare, again drawing attention to those remarkable purple-colored eyes. Sebastian's stomach made a little gurgle in protest of the simple meal being ceased. Wonka immediately looked at the child's torso with a mildly annoyed expression, then quickly picked up his head and smiled. "I got it!"

"Why it's yer clothes of course! They're all wrong!" He said cheerfully and immediately grabbed the crook of Sebastian's arm and the back of the chair, then twisted it around with the boy in it.

The boy was now facing the large bed in the center of the room, "Put those on."

Sebastian hadn't noticed it before, not among all of the patterns in the quilt. There were several neatly folded piles of clothes placed on top. He looked back at Wonka who was just flashing those ominous bright teeth again. The child got up and started to slowly pull off his own long-sleeved grey shirt.

"Oh, wait!" Wonk exclaimed again, this time with a giggle. The boy froze.

"I wanna be surprised!" He stated joyfully then turned to face the side in his chair, crossing his legs. He then proceeded to remove his plush velvet coat and hang it off the back of his chair. The flowing sleeves of the pristine white silk shirt underneath became visible. A leather band at the top of each of his arms kept the billowing fabric from covering his hands. The leather vest's military-styled buttons became visible. The collar of the vest raised all the way up to his throat where a fanciful, silver 'W' accented the closure of his top button.

Wonka suddenly held his finger up and added, "I can still see you in the corner of my eye though, so don't try to sneak away or anything."

This was the most peculiar human being Sebastian had ever encountered. And he had met some very peculiar people. He continued to disrobe until he was down to his underwear. Then lifted up the first bit of folded clothing. It was a pair of dull brown corduroy pants. Again, he was somewhat disappointed that he wasn't going to get something finer.

"Uh, the underwear too." Came the sweet-voiced command.

Clearly the candyman had snuck a peek or two despite wanting a 'surprise'. The child removed the offending garment and stood pale and naked in the charming storybook house. It was quite a vision of innocence. Wonka shifted uncomfortably in his chair and raised his hand to partly cover his peripheral vision.

"Hurry up and put the clothes on, little boy." Wonka's voice sounded mildly annoyed, with a flutter in it.

Sebastian was almost relieved that the man could be aroused without beating him. He found the new pair of simple white cotton underwear and put them on, then the rest of the clothes. They didn't quite fit him though. The pants were a little too short and the argyle sweater's sleeves didn't come up to his wrists. Sebastian sat on the bed to put on the shoes last. The large chunky boots were a tad too small, but he made them fit by tying the thick laces tightly. From the indents in the shoes, it seemed that the person who wore them before him had the same problem. Maybe the clothes weren't supposed to fit. The child stood and faced Mr. Wonka who quickly faced forward. The man gasped, his whole face lit up, he drew both of his hands up to his chest and balled them into excited fists.

"Perfect…just perfect." His voice was completely breathless.

Mr. Wonka stood slowly, almost like the sight in front of him could disappear if he was too anxious. Sebastian didn't know why, but the man was reacting to him like he was some sort of dream come true. Willy Wonka reached forward and adjusted the patterned beige shirt so that the collar stuck out of the sweater neck. He then tenderly stroked over the collar, the gloves making a brushing noise as he did so. He just stood there gazing at him for a second, his breath raspy. He raised his hand to the boy's chestnut colored hair and stroked his fingers through it. Sebastian expected to get pushed onto the large bed at any second. It was beyond him why anyone would be so thoroughly turned on by such worn-out, unattractive clothing.

"Sebastian…" He hesitated. His voice was incredibly gentle all of a sudden.

He was now grasping the boy's narrow shoulders in his hands, "Would you mind terribly if I called you…Charlie?"

"Of course not." The boy responded softly. He certainly wasn't in a position to argue. The name seemed familiar, though he wasn't sure why.

"Charlie, you go ahead and eat that candy bar now. I know it's your favorite." Wonka's face turned back toward the heavily worn kitchen table and he reluctantly released the child from his grasp.

Sebastian would have liked to finish the soup, but a candy bar would do just as well. As far as it being his favorite, food of all kinds were 'his favorite' right about now. The child walked back to the table and picked up the large bar of chocolate in the maroon wrapper. It struck him again that he was performing for the very same man who created the world-famous chocolate. Who would've thought such a man would have such strange cravings? As he started to unwrap it, something caught his eye, a glimmer of gold. The child looked at Wonka perplexed. Willy had sat down on the bed and had an expectant smile on his face. He made an excited gesture, flicking both of his hands, for the boy to continue.

"Go ahead! Open it!" Wonka's white skin refused to reflect the light in the room; instead it had an eerie light that seemed to come from another dimension entirely.

Sebastian unwrapped it a little more. There was writing on the golden paper, he tore off a large piece of the wrapper, then slid the whole thing out and stared at it.

Wonka had jumped up and excitedly grabbed the boy in an embrace, bringing himself down to his knees. "Well, read it, see what you've won!"

"B-But I can't read Mr. Wonka." Stated the child nervously. He had barely ever been to school.

"Well then, I'll just tell you." Said Mr. Wonka sweetly. He stared fondly at the boy's face while Sebastian continued to try and figure out what the object was the Mr. Wonka was now grasping with him.

"You get to live forever in my amazing factory!" Wonka said pointedly. Squeezing the boy tighter to himself.

Now Sebastian was a little confused. Was this part of the game they were playing? And why did all of this sound familiar? He stared back at Mr. Wonka completely confused, desperate to ask a question. Instead he got a soft and passionate kiss on his mouth. It was actually a really good kiss! So surprised was the child that he forgot to close his eyes initially. The contact lasted a long moment, his eyes fluttered closed, and he started to think that things were moving up in more ways than one. He could feel his new owner, even through those leather pants, and responded similarly.

Sebastian's head was turned by one of Willy's hands to stay facing him. Wonka pulled away very slowly, his eyes staying closed, savoring the moment a second longer. Then, just as Sebastian tasted the mysterious flavor of sugar on his lips, Wonka's dark eyelashes flicked open and he said in a hushed voice, "You never have to see that awful man again. He's never gonna come back for you."

This did NOT sound like part of the game and the child gulped audibly. His eyes registered panic as he stared into the far-away gaze of the chocolatier.

"That's right!" Wonka said cheerfully, "He's dead somewhere. I'm sure of it. Even if the traps in the factory didn't get him, that chocolate bar sure would!" And he giggled manically. "Yeah, I put a pretty nasty poison in that bar, plus some enzymes that'll just gobble up every bit of his carcass! It'll be like he never existed at all."

Hot tears had started to stream down the face of the boy who couldn't speak. It was true that his keeper had been awful, but it was all that he knew. Bad as it was, he knew what to expect.

Wonka pulled the boy's small head down to his left shoulder. "Aww, that's OK, you don't have to thank me." The child's frame fit marvelously inside his own, like a lost puzzle piece. He breathed in the familiar scent that the clothes caused the boy to have. He sighed, "Ooh, I've missed you so much." Wonka's voice was full of yearning.

Sebastian had started to make sobbing sounds on the man's shoulder. Wonka had to be lying to him. This had to be some sick part of the game the candy maker had started.

But it wasn't. That became clear as the days wore on and the boy's Keeper never returned.

Willy Wonka wasn't a bad lover, but he was demanding, and frequently cruel. The punishments were always worse when he was in his own clothes, so he came to prefer the other set that were provided for him. He always had a sense of little people around, like elves, but never saw any. He started to wonder if Mr. Wonka had magical powers since things seemed to disappear, reappear, and clean themselves all the time. He knew he couldn't ask. The fear of death kept him from trying to escape from the factory, that and the fact that there was nothing for him to return to.

Then, after a little time, he woke up to the sound of singing. Another person's voice called for Willy. He poked his head to look through the hole in the ceiling above the small bed, which had become his room. Outside of the cottage was Mr. Wonka with a handsome young man in an elegant emerald suit, a bow tie, and a smaller version of Wonka's top hat. The other man embraced Wonka as soon as he came over. Wonka looked nervous, but hesitantly returned the gesture. The men released their embrace and had started to talk excitedly to one another. Wonka gestured for them to go inside, cane in hand.

Sebastian instantly pulled his head away and lay back in the bed pretending to be asleep. His body really ached. His back stung with whip marks under the loose and transparent nightgown. There was something about that pathetic little bed that drove Mr. Wonka wild with passion. He kept wondering when the tiny thing would collapse from the efforts it was being put through.

"So they're all moved in and happy!", stated the young man cheerfully as he entered the cottage. Wonka was right behind him. "I'm glad you let me help them. I know the holidays are coming and it'll be a while until I get a chance to visit them again."

"Did y-your..uh.." Wonka stuttered. Sebastian had never heard him do that before. Why did this man make the cruel candy maker nervous?

"Parents?" The man sighed fondly, and then chuckled a little.

"Yeah. Did they like the house that I picked?" He asked.

"It's perfect! You even gave them some of your special horticulture!" The man gushed. Sebastian was peering down at them through the large gaps in the make-shift floor of his upstairs bedroom. The boy noticed that the new man had deep dimples when he smiled. Also his hair was the exact same shade of chestnut as his own.

"OUR horticulture." Wonka corrected politely.

The man blushed a little and they both smiled at each other, quiet for a second.

The new man cleared his throat. "So, what have you been doing in this rickety old home of mine?"

"Babysitting your birthday present." Wonka said, striking a lovely pose with his infamous walking cane, a smirk on his lips.

"My what!" Came the startled response.

"Well, you were always bemoaning not having a sibling while you grew up here. Now that it's just you and me, and you're all grown up, I thought it would be nice to have a child around again. So…I got you a baby brother."

The child upstairs gasped.

Both men looked upwards.

Wonka's smirk grew bolder. "Why don't you go ahead and meet him, Charlie. His name is Sebastain. Isn't that a lovely name?"

Charlie was startled but he headed up the ladder. Wonka continued announcing, "The poor thing had no family at all and was your spitting image! How could I resist adopting him?"

The boy came face to face with the person whose name Mr. Wonka liked to call him by, especially when he climaxed. They stared frozen at each other, both in shock. Charlie was about six feet tall and had more muscle to his body than Willie Wonka, though the man was nowhere near as bulky as his Keeper had been.

"Don't worry," Wonka called out, "he's not in my will or anything yet."

"Willy, how could you think I would worry about such a thing?" chided the handsome man. Unlike Wonka he had color in his skin and his hair was stylishly short; it looked like an expensive cut too.

"Wow, you sure do look like a young me! Of course my ears stuck out more than yours!" He laughed at the self-deprecating remark. He seemed like a very warm, kind person to Sebastain. How could it be that he and Mr. Wonka were friends?

"Sebastian…" Resounded Wonka's musical voice, "you feel free to talk to Charlie, but you remember to mind your manners." The word 'manners' was said with a certain threatening quality to it. Sebastain was pretty sure what he wasn't supposed to talk about with the young man. But, he was currently just relieved to have his company.

Charlie sat at the foot of his old bed studying the boy. Sebastain was sitting up against his pillow, his eyes wide.

"Charlie, I've got to get back to work now, I'll see you at dinner and we'll catch up some more. You stay and get to know your new baby brother, 'kay? But don't overdue it, the kid's been…ill and needs some rest." Wonka said towards the upper floorboards.

"Sure!" Charlie responded loudly, then whispered to Sebastian in a silly voice, "He's such a workaholic!"

"I heard that!" Said Mr. Wonka playfully as he stepped out the slanted door. Sebastain actually managed a small chuckle. The pair were like brothers teasing each other.

Charlie got up and poked his own head out of the roof hole; he kept watching Wonka as he sashayed through the candy meadow. His gaze fixed on the slowly disappearing form.

"How do you know him?" Sebastian said, his voice barely audible. Wonka had given him permission to speak, but it had been a long time since he was allowed to voice his own thoughts. It still seemed deviant to him.

"Oh, I won a golden ticket in one of his candy bars! It was a special contest that only five people in the whole, wide world got a chance to win. I'll tell ya the story some time. It's a hoot!" Sebastain had a vague memory of people telling him about such a contest, it had happened before he was born.

"But first…." Charlie was craning his neck, making sure Wonka was at a great distance.

"I want you tell me everything he did to you." Charlie's smokey jade green eyes met Sebastian's matching ones. The tone in his voice was quite serious, very different from the perky one he had a moment ago. Sebastian just stared at him, uncertain of his meaning.

Charlie ran his tongue across his lips, sat back down on the little bed, and undid the patterned bow tie around his neck. Erotically, he commanded, "Tell me every detail. Don't leave anything_ out."_


	2. Part 2

**Title:** CRAVINGS, part 2

**By:** IDOL HANDS

**Rating:** R (for themes)

**Disclaimer:** The characters portrayed are not my property but that of the estate of R. Dahl, Tim Burton, Freddie Highmore and Johnny Depp. However, my sick imagination belongs to my demons and I. Sebastian belongs to the desperate longings of Depp fan people everywhere.

**Warning:** Chan or Shota (under-aged boy), prostitution & kidnapping (original character), murder, possible cannibalism, M/M Slash situations, Domination/Submission, dark fiction.

**Summary:** Wonka is confronted by Charlie at dinner with issues concerning the factory or is it something more? Originally intended as a one shot, continued by popular demand.

Five

Four

Three

Two

One

"**Who's got their claws in you my friend?"**

Sebastian just sat very, very still as he watched Willy Wonka slice and dice the meat on his plate into perfect bite-sized pieces. The man was a marvel with knives, even with gloves on; he could wield them with remarkable speed and accuracy. He also kept the blades razor sharp. The boy had not had the courage to raise his small head and look up at Mr. Wonka's eyes. The closest he had come was up to the bridge of his nose, for just below that a distinct sneer could be seen. Between his rigid accuracy with the underdone meat and the twist of his red-stained mouth it was obvious that the man was very upset.

Charlie Bucket sat directly across from his mentor with a practically imperceptible grin, only revealed by the slight shadows his dimples created. Charlie's hand pressed lazily against his face and it also wore a glove, but a different color and texture. The young man was amused, possibly aroused, by the annoyance of his long-time mentor.

"I like your new look." The man in the emerald-colored suit stated with admiration, "Leather really suits you."

"Get your elbow off the table." Said Wonka flatly.

Charlie suppressed a chuckle and obeyed. "I had no idea that this would upset you so much."

"I am not upset." He responded coldly and inserted a piece of the raw meat with his long, elegant fork exactingly into his mouth. Sebastian found that he could no longer even look at the bottom of Mr. Wonka's face as the man's perfect, glistening, sharp white teeth chewed forcefully into the morsel. He wondered if the candymaker fully realized how frightening he was? What scared the child even more was that he was pretty sure that the man did not. That, if anything, Willy Wonka thought that he was an example to how others should be.

Charlie looked at Sebastian, who was seated next to him, with a pleased grin. Sebastian was still in awe of the similarities and differences between the two men. He wasn't sure what to make of it exactly. Like their outfits, some parts matched, others did not. They were similiar yet unique flavors from each other. Willy Wonka seemed a strange, complex, passionate, moody, manipulative and disciplined person. Charlie proved average, straightforward, sincere, calm, introverted, and wildly curious.

Clearly, Willy Wonka cherished Charlie Bucket more than anything in the whole world; enough to keep all of his wild urges at bay while constantly working right next to his heir for YEARS. Sebastian knew this secret because he personally fulfilled every fantasy that Mr. Wonka dared not expose to the young man. The slim boy was practically physically identical to how the handsome young man must have looked when he first came to live with the famous chocolatier, in his cavernous factory. Mr. Wonka had, by proxy, killed the man who sold Sebastian to him in order to make his fervent obsession come to life. As warped as the child's situation had been the past few weeks, it had taken on an even stranger tone when the real Charlie Bucket returned to the chocolate factory. Shortly after that, he discovered that the handsome young man had developed strong feelings for his mentor from a rather young age. So, what had gone wrong? Why was there a need for a substitute?

"It's your factory now. You can do as you please." Rang out Mr. Wonka's voice after a long pause.

"Invite whomever you want to dinner. Tell me or don't tell me. I just thought tonight was special and we would be alone." Sebastian thought that 'bitchy' would be the best way to describe his new Master's voice right now.

The frail child was scared out of his wits, but Charlie still had that 'look' on his face. Earlier that day, the famous heir to the chocolate empire had begged his "new baby brother", as Willy Wonka had introduced Sebastian, to confess what had gone on between the child and the strange candyman. Sebastian had been literally whipped into submission and barely a word could escape his lips. Instead, he had showed Charlie some of what had been done by lifting his translucent nightshirt and exposing his back. There was no doubt who had done the damage. Charlie had gingerly traced the marks with his fingertips: each swollen pink stripe raised to a thin break in the pale skin, scabbed over red-brown marks highlighted the effect. The lashes overlapped and formed "W" shapes; they even ended in swirls at the ends. Who else could manage to twist a leather disciplinary device with such precision and artistry? Sebastian remembered the sensation of Charlie's tongue tracing one of the curlicues. It felt rather different than Mr. Wonka's….

"You didn't think I would leave my new baby brother all alone in my old house did you?" Charlie said in a natural-sounding surprised tone.

Wonka sighed heavily. Charlie made a point. He shifted his eyes to the little person next to his protégé.

"He likes it in there." He said somewhat childishly and shrugged, flipping the sharp and elegant fork upwards.

"Hey Sebastian, aren't you hungry? You haven't touched a thing." Charlie put an arm around the boy's narrow shoulders. The child finally dared to look towards Mr. Wonka's eyes.

"Go ahead, little boy. Try it. I had extra brought out just for you." Mr. Wonka's falsely sweet voice had a distant sound to it and his eyes did not meet the gaze of the orphan's, rather they were focused on Charlie's arm. Also, his tone and eyebrows had concentrated on the word 'just' in the sentence.

There had been a brief and sharp discussion when Charlie first arrived at Mr. Wonka's door that evening with the uninvited guest. Although Sebastian could not make out what was being said while he stood in the hallway, he heard Mr. Wonka hiss the "s" sounds of his name repeatedly. After a succession of familiar and mysterious scurrying noises, he was given permission to enter by his new 'big brother'.

Now, he had been given permission to eat. He knew his place. He thought he would adore a nice piece of steak, but not in this situation. In fact, now that he knew the fanciful and pallid recluse better, he seriously questioned exactly what kind of meat lay before him. His mind went back to his former Keeper, could that be what was prepared 'just' for him? He wouldn't put it past Mr. Wonka, not for one minute. He took a scoop of his bright purple mashed potatoes instead. They tasted amazing and the white gravy was as creamy as chocolate.

Subtle as Mr. Wonka had attempted to be, Charlie had caught the implications in Mr. Wonka's words and squinted his eyes at his mentor. It was gone before the chocolatier noticed. Charlie released his grasp on his new brother. Something had changed, Sebastian could sense it. He looked between them both, fork tip still in his mouth.

"It's not really my factory anyway. Not yet." Said Charlie, looking away from Willy and absently taking a bite of his own dinner. Charlie sounded genuinely disgruntled.

"What are you talking about?" said Wonka sternly.

"You keep secrets from me." Charlie replied.

Wonka was left speechless for a few seconds. Sebastian dared to dart his eyes at him again. The man really could look attractive when he was disarmed. His eyes shimmering all shades of blue and violet, his lips barely parted, concealing most of his teeth. With that expression and without the top hat, he almost looked human. Sebastian reflected on the nights when Mr. Wonka would stay in Charlie's old bed with him even after they had struggled and grinded toward their sinful orgasm. Then his face could be like that, but the look was for the imaginary Charlie, not for himself. Did that bother him, he wondered? He couldn't have grown fond of the candyman, could he? Who could? Well apparently one person could, but even that remarkable soul seemed miffed right now.

"Wha-What have I…kept from you?" Wonka managed to finish, his trademark plastic smile returning to his face and a sudden giggle interrupting his words. He even stroked over the left side of his perfect bob assuring it curved along his jaw smoothly. Sebastian marveled at his new Master's nervousness, only Charlie Bucket seemed to have that effect on him. It was a delight to see. In fact, Mr. Bucket had promised such a thing to him while they were still in the boy's old make shift bedroom.

Charlie wiped his mouth with the linen napkin from his lap then placed it onto the table. He stood up. Charlie was a little over six feet tall, a few inches taller than his mentor. The effect would be even more noticeable if the chocolatier's heels weren't so high on his boots. Charlie walked to the other side of the table and removed a large ring of keys from his intricately patterned vest; the pattern matched his elegant bow tie. Sebastian's eyes widened, they looked almost exactly like the keys that Wonka had used to open the tiny door to the chocolate room when he first arrived at the factory. He hadn't seen them since.

Wonka pulled slightly away from Charlie, in a stiff motion, his mouth was down-turned and his large eyes shifted to the brass ring of keys. Wonka's keys were silver.

"How many keys are there Willie?" Charlie said in a commanding voice.

He didn't answer. The pale man just tilted back a tad further and looked up at Charlie. Suddenly Willy Wonka almost looked like the child; a child in a dark purple leather vest and a jacquard shirt that is. Wonka looked annoyed and nervous at the same time.

Charlie put his palm against the glossy polished table, and slowly leaned right next to his benefactor's ear, "You've been holding out on me old man." He whispered in a husky tone.

Wonka's eyes accidentally met Sebastian's; he was horrified to realize that the child was witnessing this exchange. Enough was enough. He swiveled his face upward to meet Charlie's, a mere inch or so above his own. "I have done no such thing!" He protested, his voice an octave higher. He grinded his teeth and pounded his fist on the table.

"Then pull it out." Charlie said smoothly, not moving a muscle.

Wonka actually blushed. Sebastian could hardly believe it! This was the same man who had made him wear a dress a few days before, while instructing the boy to suggestively consume a large, swirled lollypop. He was also thoroughly spanked across the man's lap with the long, candy-filled cane while being called a name like 'Veronica'. There was something about the patterned tights and lace panties in particular that Mr. Wonka seemed to like. He recalled the hard sensation that pressed into his belly during his corporal punishment. Then again, the man had been wearing a rather unique outfit himself that evening; it included thigh-high latex stockings connected to a very complex garter belt and corset. Charlie got a nosebleed when Sebastian managed to quietly confess those facts to him. There was far more, but he honestly didn't think the phrase "pull it out" could ever phase the infamous candymaker.

"I beg your pardon?" Said Wonka to his heir, flabbergasted.

"Your KEYS, pull out your keys." Charlie said sharply, reaching for them himself.

Mr. Wonka squawked. "Charlie!" But he did nothing to stop the man from groping at his waist and producing the equally large silver set of keys, attached to an equally long metal chain.

"There!" The golden-ticket winner pointed. "You have at least a dozen more keys on yours."

"Tsk, THOSE are to my personal quarters, my dear boy. You don't honestly expect me to give you those, do you?" Willie Wonka had stood up himself and was re-hooking the ring back into his leather vest pocket.

Charlie's eyes went up and down the man in a quick flicker. "You said I could have anything that I wanted when I returned." His voice was very serious and enhanced his British accent quite pleasently.

"Pfft!" Wonka waved his latex-gloved hand dismissively, shutting his eyes tight.

"I want those keys, Willy. I want everything that you've been holding back." The word everything was emphasized in his breathy statement.

Wonka's amethyst eyes darted back to Charlie, then over to Sebastian. How much of these semantics was the child catching on to? His stare intensified as a thought dawned upon him. Then again, how much had the child TOLD his protégé in the first place? This behavior was not typical of his perfectly pure Charlie Bucket. No, it most certainly was not. He would reserve a special bit of role-play for Sebastian tonight.

"Charlie," said Mr. Wonka, not slightly foppishly, "this evening has not proven to be what I planned for. I had every intent of addressing such things, but you spoiled it." He had placed the backside of one gloved hand to the side of his beloved protégé's face. The young man's slightly tanned skin looked even darker right next to Willie's snowy white complextion. Charlie's whole face and posture had softened at the rare touch of his benefactor. Sebastian could see the same desperate hunger in Charlie's eyes that he had seen in Willy Wonka's. It would seem more than knowledge about confections had been passed down.

"Please, let's each get a good night's sleep and address this in the morning. Your old mentor deserves that much, right?" Wonka removed his hand and turned away from Charlie, looking wounded. However, the word 'old' was stated with malcontent in his tone.

Charlie looked defeated. With a few simple gestures, Mr. Wonka had pulled the strings of Charlie's heart. It was easy, after all he was the one who attached them in the first place. A smirk pulled at the corner of Wonka's face opposite from his cherished protégé, head tilted down, he lifted his gaze to meet Sebastian's once more…and shot the chestnut-haired boy a truly malicious look. Willy Wonka had regained his composure. The chocolatier's expression immediately recalled the image of a poster from his old Keeper's bedroom: a vintage movie advertisement for a film called, "A Clockwork Orange". His heart sank for his Keeper had shown him the bizarre film about the mad sadomasochist many times.

Charlie sighed. "I'll take Sebastian back to the Chocolate Room."

"That's OK, I'll just keep the boy here for the night." Wonka said in as sugary sweet a tone as he could manage and walked over to stand by the child's side. Sebastian's eyes were wide open, he shot a look at the tall, handsome Charlie Bucket. Couldn't he stay in his new big brother's room instead! But, he dare not ask that aloud.

Charlie spun his head around to look at Sebastian at the exact same second that the child had his desperate thought.

"You-You're gonna let him stay HERE, in YOUR room? But, I never got to-" Wonka cut Charlie off.

"Your room is just down the hall Charlie, no need to make you take the long trek in the Great Glass Elevator." Then Wonka's eyes glinted privately. He turned to face Charlie with his wounded look again, "Tonight, you made me realize that I should be more…open. So, why not let him stay here?" He lightly flipped his head from side to side, which made the edges of his haircut bounce to and fro. Charlie adored when that happened.

Willy Wonka was rather pleased with himself. He had choked the tall, young man with his own words. He loved being able to do things like that. Irony was almost as delicious as candy, he thought.

Mr. Wonka couldn't physically hurt Charlie Bucket, no he could never do that, but teaching him lessons through mental efforts, that was different. In fact, Mr. Wonka had decided long ago that never giving into his lust would serve the duel purpose of sparing Charlie the sting of his affection, while spurning him to become a better inheritor of his life's work. The chocolatier knew from personal experience that a wounded heart, a broken soul, was far more capable of obsession and dedication than an unblemished one.

Willy Wonka was one of the most observant people in the whole world; he was capable of immediately seeing things that hovered in front of the very noses of common folk, unnoticed sometimes, for thousands of years. He didn't know how to act like a regular person, but he knew how to observe them, analyze them, and dissect them. That was easy. Besides, who would want to act like those people who pathetically toiled outside of his immense factory anyway? Who would want to be deliberately inferior?

So, Wonka would've had to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to notice his benefactor's affection for him! Rather than using Charlie's overdeveloped idol worship to his advantage, he had resisted the cruel temptation, in order to mold the boy into a better 'chocolatier'. The Bucket family had already deprived him of the opportunity to bond solely to the child; they nurtured Charlie with sickeningly high amounts of affection - which the Bucket's erroneously assumed would alter the chocolate maker himself. He didn't despise them, but they definitely made things supremely difficult. Making fun of them to their face was one of the few amusements that he got out of the whole situation. The family always blamed it on his social awkwardness; they were only half right.

"We're all hunky dory now, right?" Chirped Mr. Wonka. "You won't cause me any problems, will you little boy?" He stroked Sebastian's chin upwards towards his intense eyes. Eyes that always betrayed the words that escaped his mouth. Sebastian was out of the fire and into the frying pan. He politely shook his head in response to the question.

Charlie sort of hated Sebastian right now: he was definitely riddled with envy for the boy. How could Sebastian act like staying in Willy's bedroom was torture? Charlie had ruined many a set of pajamas just thinking about such a possibility!

"Couldn't I stay over too?" he asked. "We could have a sleep-over or something, it would be fun."

Wonka was amused at how young, Charlie suddenly sounded. There were times when he barely recognized the striking, well-dressed youth before him. Tonight was one of those times. Who was that person? His sweet, innocent Charlie could never intimidate him like that. He closed his eyes for a second, considering how a real slumber party could have been if his family hadn't watched the boy like hawks all the time. They were awfully suspicious of a man whom they welcomed into their home. However, it wasn't like he could blame them for their paranoia.

"You and I need space, Charlie." Wonka said, his voice sounding tired. He stroked the back of Sebastian's silky hair. It was only soft like that when children were still young. He pretended the sensation was from a long time ago, in an alternate universe, when slumber parties and late-night adventures could have been possible.

"All right." Said the luckiest boy in the whole world, finder of the fifth golden ticket, and secret keeper of Mr. Wonka's misshapen heart.

"Good Night, Willy." He knew when he was beaten and he had too many questions in his soul at the moment to continue. Besides, he would be just down the hall and the night was still young…

**Author's Notes:**

"**Who's got their claws in you my friend?" is from The Dave Matthews Song Crash Into Me.**

**Remember, this is designed to be a creepy tale and this version of Charlie has had many years around his mentor to develop some "Cravings" of his own.**

**How strong is your faith in this tale working out? It was the darkest my mind could create, but I promise that I have a respect for the characters. **

**Care for another dose of extra dark chocolate anyone?**


	3. Part 3

**Title:** CRAVINGS, part 3

**By:** IDOL HANDS

**Rating:** NC-17 (You wuz warned!)

**Disclaimer:** The characters portrayed are not my property but that of the estate of R. Dahl, Tim Burton, Freddie Highmore and Johnny Depp. However, my sick imagination belongs to my demons and I.

**Warning:** Chan/under-aged boy, prostitution, kidnapping, M/M Slash situations, dominant/submissive, caning, role play, voyeurism, oral, dark fiction. READ ALONE OR WITH SOMEONE YOU WANT TO SHAG! Read at your own peril!

**Summary:** Wonka creates a plan to deal with both his disobedient servant and his disgruntled heir. Perhaps a demonstration will satisfy everyone involved? Originally intended as a one shot, continued by popular demand.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

"**Watch out here I come!"**

Wonka had his head pressed against his front door. He was waiting for the sound of Charlie's door to close shut. When it finally clicked, he twisted on his tall heels, expecting to find his new servant right behind him.

The chocolatier hissed, "If it weren't so useful, I'd cut the TONGUE right out of your mou--"

But there was no one there - not left, not right. He stood for a second in confusion; in utter disbelief, like people whose cars are not where they parked them when they return.

"Uh, little boy, I did NOT say you could move! You get back here!" He announced sharply, his flutey voice echoing throughout his sprawling personal quarters.

When no response of any kind came, Wonka muttered to himself. "Why that little snozzwhanger."

"Are you HIDING from me, Sebastian? THIS is not a game! You show yourself this INSTANT!" Mr. Wonka could not recall the last time he was this angry. What little could be seen of his skin, was flushed with rage.

Another pause. Nothing. Suddenly he announced, "LIGHTS OFF!" and all of the lights in his spacious flat went pitch black, one by one. Then from a coat hung near his front door, he pulled out his goggle-like glasses, and flicked a tiny switch on the side of them. The previously black lenses now glowed a soft, neon-green color. Wonka smiled broadly. This would make things much easier! He even started to hum his "Welcome Song" while he sauntered about his flat.

"HA! You want to play games with ME, ya little BRAT? You don't even know WHAT yer up against! No one BEATS Willie Wonka! I created ALL the rules! I INVENTED all the…"

His boasting was interrupted by what his enhanced goggles had just spotted - a huddled glowing mass tucked inside his third shoe closet! He smirked wickedly and approached the heat-radiating object. Hopefully the little boy would run. That would be even more fun; a game of "catch me if you can" in his dark and thoroughly decorated rooms. Especially with his technical advantage! Sebastian wouldn't stand a chance. But the form didn't budge, not even when he finally grabbed it. Wonka was puzzled.

"LIGHTS ON!" He announced again. All the lights flicked on to his pre-set commands, creating a pleasantly dim-lit atmosphere. He crouched down to the boy's small frame, his leather garments created creaking noises as he did so.

Sebastian was curled into a little ball. The child's small frame was completely limp and he looked paler than usual. He had passed out, assumedly from fear. It was enticing and unnerving at the same time. Mr. Wonka was not accustomed to being concerned with the purchased boy. Sometimes the candy-maker would bathe or feed the lad by hand, read him a moral story, or allow him a small amount of videos, but not until after he had had his own 'rewards' for the evening. Even then, the boy had to be extra good to earn such attention. Sebastian had NOT been 'extra good' this evening. He stayed crouched over the unconscious form, head titled, watching the shallow breathes, as ideas formed into his mind.

He gently picked up the child into his arms, his smile broadening. No, he was not going to let this silly little incident spoil his evening any further. He'd make the best of it. He praised himself for always being so good at coming up with new ideas. This was going to be a very interesting evening indeed!

Meanwhile, just a little way down the hall, was a pensive and perplexed young man. Charlie Bucket had started to pull off his clothes as soon as he walked into his suite: his gloves, the bow tie, a hand-made jacket and an embroidered vest, all strewn over his floor and couch. He started to unbutton his sage shirt, one carved candy button on a time. His chest was well formed and tanned. Willie had started him on Supervitamin Candy shortly after he got to the factory as a child; the delicious stuff did wonders for your health, especially if you started taking it young. It had turned the scrawny Bucket child into a rather strapping young man, for whatever good it was worth. He attracted a lot of attention and took good photos for the press, that much was certain. The inheritor of the candy factory sat down on his work-out bench, the usual spot for his frustrations.

Charlie thought about Sebastian alone with Wonka in the man's bedroom. It wasn't like he couldn't guess what might be happening. It was wrong, and it really shouldn't turn him on like it was, but he knew Sebastian liked it to a certain extent too. The little boy had even said that his 'new Master' (imagine actually getting to CALL him that?) was far better at delving out pain and pleasure than his Keeper was. Charlie groaned. Why was Willie doing this to him! He was finally going to be alone in the factory with his mesmerizing mentor!

Fully grown Charlie was feeling very pent up. Although he had amused himself with quite a bit of adult entertainment, he hadn't ever bothered with anyone. What was the point? No one else talked, smelled, thought, or even walked (oh, that walk!) like Willy Wonka. Charlie was completely addicted to the man, but for Wonka he had to play innocent. It had served him well these last few years. Though the young man supposed, there was a part of him that was innocent still, sullied as he was at this point.

After meeting Sebastian, he really thought he had a chance to get through. Especially now that he actually knew what Willy wanted! He couldn't have been more grateful for Sebastian's confessions. Their value spared him a second of jealousy toward his pseudo clone, until just now. Then there was another problem…the exact way that Wonka manipulated the boy; he couldn't even EAT without permission. How different was Charlie himself, from Sebastian? Emotionally tied up and tortured, by the great chocolatier, rather than physically? At least the child got laid. No, that was the wrong way to think.

"Ugh!" Charlie grabbed his head with both of his hands. His fantasies were impairing his judgment. But Willy Wonka's confections were the stuff of fantasies; his mentor had encouraged him to indulge in every sort possible.

"Sweet inspiration is to be found everywhere, my dear boy! Don't limit your thoughts just to pleasure. Real art comes from pain and my treats are all works of art."

Wonka had said that to him at the fragile age of thirteen or so. Now, exactly as he had said the words, 'my treats', the eccentric man had deliberately wiped away a bit of chocolate that was stuck to the corner of Charlie's small mouth. He then proceeded to lick it off his own glove, and let out a little noise of satisfaction at its flavor. Charlie's mind was in a fog for the rest of the day; confused by his own little thoughts. He didn't want to discuss it with his family though. He ended up having a lot of thoughts that he kept to himself. In the end, he supposed that he too was one of Wonka's treats: a work of fleshly, edible art. Now, why wouldn't the old man, "just reach out and grab it?" He sighed. What should he do?

Charlie wasn't sure how long he had been sitting, his thoughts spinning around his handsome head, until the sound of something scraping under his front door caught his ears. He leapt up off of his exercise equipment and stared at the parchment note with the red sealing wax; a top hat embellished upon it. A thought crossed Charlie's mind. He quickly opened his elegant entrance, but no one was there. He hesitantly pulled open the folded note and read the calligraphy:

Blame it on the moon,

But Willy Wonka did it,

We left Camelot a trifle too soon,

The Devil's playthings hid it.

Curious is as curious does,

Though if you truly have no fear,

Nothing really is as it ever was,

Still I need you to tell me you're here.

Those pure of heart soon shall weep,

However my feelings by poetry just will not do,

For the forbidden knowledge that you seek,

Go to the electrical picture taboo.

It was an invitation…of sorts. It seemed clever, sad, threatening, and inviting all at the same time. Very Wonka.

"Electrical picture taboo?" Charlie rubbed his chin, scratching against his light stubble. He thought hard and re-read the odd poem.

"He means the Television Room!" he announced to the empty hallway. Charlie didn't bother to do anything more than slam his door shut. Bare-chested and barefoot, he began to run down the dark hallway toward the Great Glass Elevator. The warmth of the factory, combined with his youthful excitement, kept him from noticing until he was halfway there. Whizzing by the rooms at a phenomenal speed, it was hard to make out anything clearly, the thing stood still only for a second here and there, but the entire factory seemed to have taken on a much stranger feel; objects seemed sharper, colors darker, patterns more bizarre. Or was it his imagination?

Arriving at the room in an absolute panic, clutching the note, the glass doors parted with a cheerful "ding". Charlie stepped out, all nerves, but the whole room was dim. No one was there. Had he guessed wrong? He looked all around. The Television Room was different. He heard the elevator whoosh away and turned around. Unexpectedly, a shiver went down his spine, not an unfamiliar one. His mentor was here somewhere…watching.

"Willy?" Charlie's voice sounded childish even to himself.

A light beamed down from the glass tube, there was another note stuck inside it. Charlie kept looking around, but proceeded to the platform, hiking himself up to where Mike TeeVee had stood many years ago. "Wonkavision" had ended up winning his mentor a Nobel Prize; making Wonka a hero to a world that he couldn't stand. Irony - Willy's favorite flavor. Charlie wasn't sure he wanted to get into that tube, until he saw an "Out of Order" sign on the big, red button that normally 'teleported' the chocolate bars.

"Better be." He mubbled to himself. He stood on his tiptoes to read the small print on the parchment stuck to the inside of the glass. Then the transparent tube came sliding down at a rapid speed.

"TWACK!"

Charlie had reflexively shut his eyes and crossed his arms over his head, preparing for the worst. Instead, the wall of televisions started to light up, issuing various sorts of static and heavy metal music began playing. Charlie shielded his eyes from the blinding light with his forearm. He tried to look out at the room, but the paper was in his way. He could now clearly see the tiny writing:

SUCKER!

Enjoy the show.

Charlie ripped it down and started shouting a lot of words that he had learned from his Grandpa George. He pounded on the glass as hard as his muscles would let him. However, the glass was so thick that not a sound escaped from it, nor did it show the slightest sign of breaking. Charlie resorted to hand gestures.

Then Willie Wonka's image appeared upon all the television screens and Charlie was left stunned. Wonka looked amazing! He was wearing a blood red satin shirt, with a stylized black wet leather vest and matching pants, that laced up the front. His lips were tinted to match the shirt exactly, but protective white goggles covered his eyes. Wonka's image was being split and manipulated across the wall of televisions. Sometimes there was one large, flawless face, sometimes many; twisted and manipulated through the electronic media like a modern music video.

"Uh-uh. Baaad boy, Charlie." Scolded Willy Wonka in a condescending tone. Some of the images showed him full length, revealing bright red shoes, peaking through the splits up the sides of his showy trousers. The calf-length boots laced up the sides. In reverse to his usual style, the red shoes bore black "W"'s layered onto them as well as the highest heels he had ever seen his benefactor wear! Light danced and shined all over the glossy material of his outrageous outfit. Wonka took a second to provocatively run his gloved hands up his form, then reached up and pulled the tassel of a cord, dangling from somewhere above his head. He grinned his glittery smile.

Charlie was confused. Was this real or recorded? Then, before he could think another thought, a deluge of water gushed from the ceiling well above Charlie's head. The water was ice cold and he was completely drenched! His head was bowed down, but his mouth was wide open in shock. Charlie wiped away the water from his eyes and pushed back his short, sopping hair. He stared at the screens again.

"Next time, it won't be water. So behave yourself." Warned his mentor's quirky voice.

Charlie's eyes focused on Sebastian who was now standing against the glowing television screens. Though heavily shadowed by the light beaming behind him, Charlie could make out that the boy's outfit was nearly identical to Mike TeeVee's; a long-sleeved red shirt, under a black T-shirt that bore a flaming skull. The black pants were a little different than Mike's, since they were covered in zippers. Wonka had captured the details of the high-top shoes and the child's hair was slicked up with gel. However, a gag was wrapped around the boys face and a collar was bound across his throat with a leash extending to somewhere past the wall of television screens…

"Now YOU know what it's like to be as mad as a wet hen!" The familiar form strolled out with a wide grin firmly planted on his face. Wearing his trademark top hat and holding the child's leash, he looked like a mad ringleader. Wonka continued to walk towards Charlie in his glass cage: stiletto heels clicking against the polished white floor.

"My, my, my, you did arrive 'undressed' for the occasion, didn't you?" He giggled and ran the tip of his lavender latex glove across an invisible path of Charlie's form. The tip of the glove was longer and more pointed than usual, there were nails attached to them. The young man found himself pressing against the thick glass, looking wishfully at his mentor. His lips mouthed Willy's name, and puffed hot air onto the glass, but not a sound could be heard.

"My dear boy, I can not hear a WORD that you are saying; just like CERTAIN mumblers." He yanked at Sebastian's chain with a sneer. Charlie remembered how much Willy hated that particular child. Poor Sebastian. He glanced over at the boy in his Mike costume, but the child's eyes were focused on his Master only.

A tiny alarm went off and Mr. Wonka pulled out his expensive pocket watch, clicking it off. "Oh good, it's time!"

He turned his face back up to Charlie's with another toothy grin, "Yer really gonna like this part!" Wonka proceeded to pull off his top hat and throw back his head – his hair grew instantly longer with the gesture. Flipping his head back toward the other side, it grew longer still! The image was surreal, fantastical!

Wonka gave a wild laugh. "It kinda tickles!" Then he pulled off his goggles, speaking excitedly. "I finally fixed the gosh darn hair toffee!"

As the last few inches of his new hair trickled from his scalp, stopping near his waist, Charlie focused on Wonka's eyes. He had put quite a lot of smoky eye shadow on, drawing him hopelessly into those ethereal lavender irises. Charlie thought he looked hypnotizing all vamped up; like one of his wet dreams come true. The young man was having a difficult time remaining standing. If there wasn't an impenetrable layer of glass between them, he wasn't sure exactly what he would do to his mentor. Probably whatever he wanted him to do.

Wonka started to walk away, but he kept talking, "I could have taken the stuff that gives you a goatee too, but I didn't want to scratch up the boy's pretty little face. So, I made two different formulas!" He yanked Sebastian's leash mercilessly and headed toward the chair in front of the televisions. The little boy gave a helpless look to Charlie, his mouth wrapped around a large gobstopper that was strapped across his face with a leather band. From behind he could see that the boy's hands were also clamped into a device, immobile. The cameras followed Willy Wonka and enhanced his every move. A single screen focusing on the heels, another on his bright mouth, the central ones creating a giant image of the chocolatier's entire silhouette. He swayed and moved to the wild rhythms of the music.

"Seems like I've got two problems." Said Wonka squinting his eyes, spinning Sebastian's leash around his glamorous, shiny black pants.

"ONE, a rotten little boy who doesn't know how to keep his mouth SHUT and TWO, a rude and overly curious heir. Let's just see if we can't just kill two birds with one stone. Hm?" He unwound the cord from his figure while colored lights painted the stark room. One couldn't help but notice how well the tight pants emphasized the man's posterior.

"Ya know, I really didn't want you to know what I was doing in my free time, Charlie. But now that I know that you know, I figured I might as well let you know that I know that you know." He paused, long finger to his "O" shaped mouth, attempting to calculate the statement that he had made.

"Yeah! That's it!" His face brightened.

"Anyway, you really want to know about my secret appetites? Then, pay attention and don't…touch anything." He emphasized the word 'anything'. Charlie wondered for a second what he could possibly 'touch' in his confined situation. Then glanced down at his own groin. Oh.

Mr. Wonka nodded with a grin. "This is gonna be fun!" He giggled and threw himself down into the solitary chair. It was a lot more cushioned than before and resembled a lazy boy recliner. He had started to pull Sebastian's leash closer and closer to himself. Eventually the boy rested on his own knees, drawn all the way between Wonka's spread eagle legs. The heels of the shoes tilted outward, displayed like spikes.

He began wrapping the fingers of his pointed glove around the ball of his cane. It had been propped against the chair. He pushed the cane between Sebastian's legs and pressed firmly, but gently. The boy closed his eyes and submissively pressed the side of his face against the higher part of the glass, candy-filled cane. An object that had caused him so much fear was now part of a familiar dance. He ran his small, pink tongue around it as a demonstration for his Master.

Wonka pulled out a dangerously large pair of scissors from inside the arm of the chair. His eyes got an intense stare as the blades opened and headed toward the posed boy's form. Charlie banged on the glass again. Wonka's expression changed to annoyance.

"You really are a BAD boy, aren't cha' Charles? Hm, no p-p-blu." All these years and he still couldn't say the word! Charlie actually laughed out loud. Despite all of this erotic madness, his friend was still in there somewhere. It made his heart skip a familiar beat.

"Oh, Hornswagglers!" Wonka cursed himself. "Your FAMILY! If you think you can run amuck in my factory without them, then you've got another thing coming!" His stern face, changed quickly to bemusement at the last word.

"Well, we'll see about that last bit. But until then, do NOT distract me again!" Mr. Wonka pointed one finger at his pupil, while pushing a button on the remote control with another. The complex remote was resting on the other arm of the chair. Charlie covered his head again as a heavier, but still clear, substance fell upon him.

It was Snozzberry scented oil! He looked at himself in awe as he glistened like his mentor's clothes.

Mr. Wonka was biting the tip of one his nailed fingers, examining Charlie with a rather curious expression on his face. The heavy eye shadow emphasized the depth in his chameleon-like eyes and drew out the pallor of his skin. He quickly shook his head, like he was shaking away his thoughts, and re-focused on the fake Mike TeeVee between his legs.

He continued to slide the ferocious looking scissors down the back of the T-shirt's neck, then glanced his eyes back at Charlie. The young man looked entranced, fearful, confused. Good. In a few precise slicing movements, the scissors exposed most of the still unhealed "W" shaped whip marks on the child's back. Wonka gently scratched the tips of his nails across them, in long circular motions. Sebastian's body quivered.

"Mmmmnn." Wonka just made a contended sound. He pulled the scissors up toward the boy's head and let the cold blades press against his innocent face. The camera focusing in: allowing the child's long, dark eyelashes to be seen clearly. When the razor sharp blades created a slim cut at the edge of his gaunt cheekbone, the lashes twitched only slightly. A thin line of blood trickled down. The chocolatier bent his torso down to meet the thin red line with his tongue; the tip almost seemed pointed as well.

"Ca-chunk!" the scissor's next victim was the harness across the doppelganger's mouth. It fell to the floor and Wonka sat up in his commanding position again. Wonka twisted the cane up and around the back of the boy's neck, pulling his head further down between his open legs.

"Undo the laces." He commanded in a nearly guttural tone.

Sebastian began to obey by pulling at the end of one of the laces with his teeth. Unbeknown to the great chocolatier, this was a great privilege to the child. He really felt like he was unwrapping a present, not getting punished. Charlie finally got to see that his mentor had nothing to be ashamed of all of these years. In fact, it was as beautiful as the rest of him: smooth and pale, with a blush of pink at the tip.

Wonka smirked. The cameras allowed for very good vantage points: he was torn between which perspective to enjoy. The boy was nuzzling his new Master with the bridge of his nose, waiting for his next command.

"Obviously, I'm gonna hafta keep yer mouth much too busy to talk from now on." His voice had that false sweet sound as he spoke. He pulled the cane back and whacked it full force into Sebastian's arched rear. A muffled sound came from the boy. Wonka did this several times more, his breath getting heavier. The stinging sensation caused a tingling to run through the child's anatomy. The twisted expression on the boy's face showed more than pain, as a tear streamed down his cheek. Wonka bent down to lick that up as well. He focused on tasting the salty drop of water that his discipline had caused.

Then man's voice took on a masculine tone as he ordered. "Your turn."

Sebastian's small tongue curled around his stiff shaft. It tasted exactly like his Master's mouth; like pure sugar, with a hint of peppermint. The boy was amazingly gifted at this particular chore. The fact that his tongue was not large enough to cover much off the skin was a very big turn on. He would lick up one side, kitten-like, before twisting his head to do the same to the other. The pain he had just been put through also caused his mouth to salivate and grow quite warm.

"Thsssssst." Wonka's eyes squeezed shut as he indulged in the feel of it, a sharp sound escaping his ruby red mouth.

Sebastian knew that was his cue to wrap his lips around just the head of the pulsing rod and suck on it like a hard, round lollypop. In fact, Mr. Wonka had had him practice on such objects, but Mr. Wonka's skin was far softer than any of the candy he sucked on. He flicked his tongue repeatedly across the opening, begging for the even sweeter release kept inside. But, it was much too soon for that, much too soon to know what flavor Mr. Wonka would take on this time. Instead his persistent pursing only won him another throaty command.

"Deeper." There was a gasp that followed the effort to speak. Arms still secured behind his back, Sebastian had to carefully balance himself on his knees between his master's lap, in order to pivot at the right angle onto the hardening phallus. His small body was the perfect size for this task.

His hot mouth easily fit the first few inches, slowly he worked down the rest, until eventually it brushed the back of his throat. Then, he would suck very hard. The more forcefully he could do that, the better Mr. Wonka liked it, he also liked it when he jerked the muscles inside his tight throat – the walls roughly stroking him from inside the boy's body.

"UHN!" A loud high-pitched sound escaped from Wonka's own throat. He flung back his head, flipping the long hair, overwhelmed by the sensations. As his head was titled back, he glanced back at Charlie, still stuck in the glass tube in nothing but his wet, glossy tailored pants. They were sticking to his body and making his reaction to the entire scenario quite visible. One eyebrow arched keenly as Mr. Wonka estimated that Charlie had a little more to offer than himself. Then he was distracted again as Sebastian worked his artistry.

"AH!" His head jerked back forward, flipping the hair again, and draping it over the boy like a curtain. Sebastian had sped up the process, he knew it wouldn't be long now. He could feel him twitching inside his mouth. He pushed against the pressure that Wonka's slim cane was putting on his neck. He wanted to pull up a tad, assuring that some of the fluid would touch his tongue and not all escape down the back of his throat.

Wonderfully musical groaning sounds continued to emit from Mr. Wonka. Charlie wondered if his mentor would really notice if he did anything right now. He slowly moved one hand toward himself. His pants had grown extremely uncomfortable.

All of Sebastian's efforts had paid off. His Master was in the throws of ecstasy and his mouth was filled with the flavor of hot French vanilla ice cream, like he imagined crème brulee would taste. The nails of the gloves sunk into the cushioned fabric on the arms of the chair, cane forgotten on the floor, music reaching a loud crescendo. The boy's suction could get rather intense as he tried to pull as much of the sticky sweetness from the man as he could manage. The hollows of his cheeks became visible as his sucking insisted on more, even when his Master was bowed over and seemed spent.

"Uhh. No. Stop." Mr. Wonka weakly protested, scarcely able to think straight. Sebastain, dressed in the tattered clothes of Mike TeeVee, did not obey. Mr. Wonka found himself unable to rest, the unrelenting requests overwhelming his biological urges. He was again extremely erect.

"UHN!" A much louder sound, followed by his eyes flashing open, made that fact apparent. A strobe light effect had started to kick in and Charlie could only make out sporadic images of the perverse sequence now taking place. Mr. Wonka had undone his vest and the material of the satin red shirt clung to his pale form. He had pulled Sebastian up to his face, in order to suck very firmly on the child's slim neck. If Charlie could have heard anything, he would have expected to hear some sort of shout from the boy's gaping mouth.

The next flashes showed that the two of them were as busy with their hands as they were with their mouths. The child's hand harness had been unsprung and Sebastian unbuttoned the shirt, exposing more of Mr. Wonka's glowing and slick skin. The candymaker's hand was tucked under Sebastian's pants undoing a zipper that ran from behind and under the boy's crotch. He was fervently licking and sucking at the boy's neck and face.

Charlie made out the exact second that Sebastian was positioned onto his mentor's lap: his desperate need slipping deeply inside the boy. Again, he imagined a scream could have been heard if the music wasn't so loud. The televisions were flashing images to the tempo, reflecting the chaos of the strobe lights. The images were from a few previous sessions as well. Evidently this was not the first time Mr. Wonka had recorded his performance.

As accustomed as Charlie was becoming to his benefactor's bizarre cravings, the image of Sebastian dressed in Willy's former school uniform still threw him for a loop. His hands stopped moving momentarily, as he also noticed that the boy was strapped into a black dentist chair, with very 'un-dentist like' tools on a tray near him. He never wanted to see Wonka in a lab coat ever again! Sex and fear were a strange combination; but he was too aroused, even though he didn't want to be, in that particular second. His body continued to beg for attention.

The young man focused back to the scene playing out under the flashing lights. Wonka had grown too aroused to handle the boy sitting forward on his lap and was now twisting their bodies around, so that he could pin the boy beneath himself. Sebastian's half-closed eyes conveyed pure lust. He was as far gone as his Master. It was nice to see the child experiencing pleasure, Charlie thought. Then he reminded himself that such pleasure was technically quite sinful. Maybe chocolate was the Devil's plaything, but then he and Sebastian were Wonka's.

The strobe lights bouncing and sliding off of Mr. Wonka's rhythmically moving form was captivating and the cameras had set all of their focus upon it. The boy had lost one sneaker to the floor and his slim legs were as intertwined with the man's as possible. The child was gripping the chocolatier's back with all his strength, creating dramatic shadows in the shiny material.

Sebastian's eyes were squeezed shut, eyebrows upturned, mouth gently parted, cheeks flushed; his face looked angelic as he reached orgasm. The image captured vividly on the television screen. Charlie realized that Mr. Wonka's eyes were quite open, though his body was still moving, and he turned his exacting gaze toward his heir. Licking up Sebastian's face again, another smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as his eyes darted down Charlie's form. The young man was caught 'red handed'. He reached over one hand and pushed a button on the remote, then returned to grinding into Sebastian as roughly and quickly as he could manage.

Charlie was drenched again, in a dark substance that he assumed to be liquid fudge. He heard Mr. Wonka laugh loudly, between his gasps, as he came into the boy. He was indeed one sick bastard.

The crazy lights ceased and only static televisions lit up the room again. Wonka had gotten up from the chair, casually re-lacing his pants and leaving Sebastian panting and writhing in pleasure. Shirt undone, long chocolate hair sticking to his pale skin, eye make-up smeared, he sauntered up to the glass tube again. Charlie looked like a giant chocolate bar to him. Wonka licked his lips leisurely.

"Satisfied?" the man asked, looking like a mixture of a whore and a rock star, but little like a confectioner.

Charlie just barely managed to re-zip his messy pants; an annoyed look on what was visible of his face. The chocolate slid off of the edible oil readily. He licked his finger tips; snozzberries were his favorite after all. He knew Wonka knew that too.

Wonka giggled, but the sound was tired, not his usual hysteria. "Well, ya know what they say, curiosity killed the…"

The glass tube had begun to lift up. Charlie and Mr. Wonka were both stunned for a second. Sebastian giggled.

Wonka attempted to spin around on his heels, but the pressure finally gave and the right one snapped, landing his glossy bottom onto the floor. Through his long hair he glared at the boy, mouth wide open.

A tiny "oops", was all he got in return.

**Author's notes:**

"**Watch out here I come" is a line from the song, "You Spin Me Round" by the band Dead or Alive.**

**I dedicate Wonka's poem to the many amazing fan fictions that I've read. If you have read a lot of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory fan fiction, then you make recognize them contained within.**

**If you enjoy this story, particularly THIS chapter, please check out "loonylucifer" at Deviant Art for stunning artwork created for this fanfic series. Domo Arigato.**

**Let me know what you liked! Reviews Welcome!**


	4. Part 4

**Title:** CRAVINGS part. 4

**By:** IDOL HANDS

**Rating:** R (for themes)

**Disclaimer:** The characters portrayed are not my property but that of the estate of R. Dahl, Tim Burton, Freddie Highmore and Johnny Depp. However, my sick imagination belongs to my demons and I.

**Warning:** Chan/under-aged boy, kidnapping, M/M Slash situations, Dominant/Submissive, messing with Mother Nature, other kinks, a dark but lovable fiction.

**Summary:** Wonka's carefully laid plans have backfired and he finds himself at the mercy of his now grown pupil. What will happen with him, the former child whore, and Charlie? However will things resolve themselves?

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

**"Slippery When Wet"**

Wonka definitely thought he had the physics of spinning on his heels mastered. Looks like he might have been wrong about a few other things that he thought he had under his control too. There he was sprawled across the glossy white floor: drained, sweaty, and half-dressed. The world famous chocolatier was feeling slightly less than all-powerful at the moment.

Glaring at Sebastian wasn't going to help this situation. The naughty little cherub, who had pushed the release button on Wonka's remote control device, was leaning his head on his arms with a tiny amused smile on his face. Besides, at this point, the child was much further away than the immediate presence of his fully-grown pupil, Charlie Bucket.

The young man had finally been released from the glass tube, which had been confining him. He had also been privy to Wonka's full-blast version of a sex video, in the Television Room. Charlie's offenses during the course of the evening, had earned him a shower of ice water, followed by edible Snozzberry oil, and lastly one of liquid fudge. The tall and dripping man was now standing before his mentor's prone form.

Mr. Wonka knew that he had done a very good job of working, the now well-toned Bucket, into a frenzy of lust and anger. Neither of which, he ever anticipated being in the approximate range of.

His skin had grown as pale as the floor; the glow from the wall of static-filled televisions adding a blue tinge to it's hue, accenting his extraordinary bone structure. His bright red lips were slightly puffy from the excessive use of Sebastian's body earlier and his perspiration had caused the opened red satin shirt to just barely cling to him. The wet leather black pants weren't doing him any favors either, the thick sheen readily stuck to the glassy floor. He was also frozen with panic at the moment; slightly smeared, heavily shadowed lids kept careful track of the glops sliding off Charlie's body. His eyes then darted up and looked into Charlie's complex blue-green ones. The lad's eyes were more intense than he had ever seen them and locked upon his mentor's like laser sites on a gun.

Zombie-like, his pupil took another messy step closer. A trail of fluid had been left in his wake from the base of the chocolate bar teleporting device.

"Charlie, HEEL!" Mr. Wonka suddenly announced. At the same time pointing a long, pointed gloved hand toward the young man. He wasn't sure what made him say it. Arrogance? Wishful thinking? Being completely and utterly without any other recourse!

Amazingly, Charlie actually started to lower himself to the floor, his stare never leaving Mr. Wonka's. Soon, he was down on all fours. Wonka was confused, but impressed. Then Charlie took the last dog-like step towards his mentor; his head just above the extended bright red calf-boot with the broken heel.

Mr. Wonka's face contorted. Any second a slippery drop of oily chocolate was going to touch his…

"plip!"

…boot. His face flinched and he shut his eyes; it was too disgusting for him to even look at. After that Wonka felt an oddly warm sensation on the top of his foot. Immediately re-opening his eyes, the obsessive-compulsive confectioner's vision, was filled with Charlie's broad tongue lapping up the offending syrup. Again, Charlie's eyes never left his violet ones. It was unnerving and rather unlike his usual countenance. Charlie did not stop at the top of the foot, where the black W's were embossed. He continued to wrap his mouth around the entire pointed tip of the boot, closing his eyes for a second, before staring back at his mentor. Wonka found himself oddly impressed. The sensation and visuals were very pleasing. His face relaxed into a studious gaze.

Charlie crawled closer, leaving chocolaty handprints behind on the pristine reflective floor. His shiny, lean muscular body was now halfway above his mentors; hovering only inches above him.

"plip!"

"plop!"

Two more drops slid off of his body. Wonka flinched again and made a small, uncomfortable sound. Again, Charlie bent down and licked it up, continuing up the slick material of the pants and drawing himself nearer still to Wonka's torso, still starring.

"O-O.K. That's enough. Good boy." He said weakly, finishing with a minute giggle; a lame attempt to make up for calling him a 'bad boy', twice, earlier that night.

Charlie's eyes panned down the man's half-reclined body then back up to his fearful stare. He licked his own lips: pink skin standing out in marvelous contrast to the chocolate still clinging to his face. He resembled someone who had been in a mud wrestling fight; it was impossible to tell where the soaked material of his pants ended and his bronzed skin began. It was almost as if he were already naked. The heavy fudge sauce was fast sliding off the layers of oil and water that first coated him.

"Plop!"

A rather large blob of goo fell onto Wonka's bare chest, the satin shirt only clinging to one shoulder now. Mr. Wonka made an even more squeamish sound than before and scrunched up his face into a painful expression. Again, he felt a broad, warm tongue, but this time it was on his flesh. A thousand shivers went through his being. Apparently something similar happened to Charlie since he withdrew looking rather dizzy. Then he gave an impressed smirk to his perplexed benefactor. Wonka wasn't sure he liked seeing Charlie with a smirk, those were usually his domain.

The greasy man snaked forward bringing his messy face near the chocolatier's - still silent, still entranced. Then Charlie took a long, animal-like sniff along the crook of Wonka's graceful neck. He was desperately tempted to take another taste of the glistening, marble-like skin. Instead, the adult Bucket finally spoke. He said in a husky whisper right into the man's ear, "You smell like sex and candy."

Wonka was speechless for a second. Paralyzed in his vulnerable position, he whispered back, "I can't possibly do anymore this evening." His voice sounded pleading.

Charlie smiled just enough to expose his trademark dimples, patches of his skin becoming visible. He began to speak again, softly, his English accent highlighting his words. "Oh, but you can do anything. You're Willy Wonka."

They were lines the young man had learned long ago from his Grandpa Joe, who said them even more, once the Buckets all lived inside the marvelous chocolate factory. Charlie and his family never knew the hunger of food or sting of winter again, but the young heir learned there were things that one could hunger for other than food. And that winter wasn't the only thing capable of causing cold shivers.

"No more games, old man. It's time someone taught YOU a lesson." Charlie continued, the gentleness of his voice making the threatening words even more unnerving to the confectioner.

If anyone had been looking in Sebastian's direction, they would have seen an insolent little expression on the child's face: A look not unlike the boy, Mike TeeVee, whom he had been forced to dress as. This was payback for the waif. He had lived in a state of perpetual fear of the famous Willy Wonka since arriving at the factory under the guise of being temporarily sold to the man. Despite growing accustomed, even appreciative, of Wonka's sexual peculiarities, it was still satisfying to see the 'collar' around the other 'neck'. Something had told him that this encounter between the two men needed to happen. Having been the victim his entire life, he had learned to read into people. It ensured his survival. This madness had gone on far too long.

Wonka stared directly into Charlie's eyes and swallowed before he said, "I don't know you anymore."

Charlie finally gave in to his temptation to taste the man again, this time using just the tip of his tongue. Then his lips brushed against Willy's ear, with each word, as he murmured, "But, I'm everything that you made me."

The tingling sensation was traveling all the way through his body; it felt like miniscule currents of electricity. He honestly didn't think he could have gotten any harder than he was right then. Even the televisions had started to go hey-wire. One suddenly exploding into broken shards and sparks!

Sebastian quickly snuggled deep into the cushioned white chair, somewhat concerned at the effects going on in the Television Room. Only the top half of his little head was visible now, still peering at the intermingled couple.

Charlie finally lowered himself and pressed the slick hardness of his body onto the man. The squelching sound of the fluids made Wonka's whole body cringe and tighten. He was getting more contaminated by the second! Charlie continued to whisper in a heavy voice, "I'm your heir. The factory is mine now and so is everything in it. It says so in writing. You said I could have whatever I wanted when the time came, to just reach out…and grab it."

The young man had pulled his head back up, ready to find out what effect would take place when he finally placed his mouth onto Willy's; something that his heart had been aching to do since he could remember. Surely the candymaker really wanted this as much as Charlie did. He only needed some 'convincing'. When he faced the chocolatier again, he saw a pained expression on the man's face, his eyes were like the horizon of dusk; staring so closely into them one felt they could get lost forever in their twilight color.

"Go ahead." Wonka said. "I deserve it." A single tear slipped down his right cheek as he said so.

The handsome young man wasn't sure if Wonka was playing games with him again, but he had never seen Willy cry before. Never. Charlie Bucket wanted to nail him into the ground more badly than he had probably wanted to do anything in his entire life…but not like this. He let out a massive sigh, his chest pressing more deeply into Wonka's.

"I don't want to force you." He said quietly, practically regretting his own words as his eyes focused on those red-stained lips.

"What does it matter!" Wonka spat out, eyes flashing wildly. "I'm justa' another part of this goshdarn factory! Justa' another piece of CANDY to be consumed; another piece of MACHINERY to be used! I'm just an OLD man with SICK fantasies, whose outlived his usefulness! BUT…at least I don't break my promises."

He squinted his eyes in anger and pressed up into his pupil, "So, go 'head, Charlie Bucket, USE me."

Charlie had never heard Willy use his name with such a cold tone in his voice. It made him feel sick to his stomach. He bowed his head and balled the palms that were pressed against the smooth, cold floor into fists.

"Argh!" Charlie shouted an angry noise, banging his hands, and causing countless small droplets to splatter around them.

Wonka actually flinched, despite his bold speech. Charlie laid his head on his mentor's shoulder and brought his arms around him in an embrace. Wonka didn't know what to expect, but he braced himself for the worst.

All Charlie said was, "I love you."

Wonka's eyes widened, eyebrows upturned. "Don't. Don't say that." Another tear streamed down his porcelain face.

Charlie continued, "I-I don't need you to love me back. I mean, I could go on loving you forever, but the idea that you don't trust me…that you're hiding things, after all these years…that hurts far deeper."

He picked his head back up to look into those impossible eyes. "I know you're in there, Willy; that hurt child inside the man. I'm still here too. But, If YOU want me to, I'll leave. I don't need this factory…I stayed for you. For you, I'd stay until the end of time."

Wonka was completely taken aback. It was the opposite of anything that he was expecting. It was better than anything he deserved for toying with Charlie's emotions for all these years. How could he not hate him? Hadn't he done everything in his power to assure that the young man would be at least a little disgusted with him? All he had thought about was how to keep an heir, a partner, at exactly arms length; close enough to learn everything, driven enough for constant dedication, loyal, obedient, but never allowed close enough to get inside the amazing chocolatier's heart.

Too late.

Large tears fell out of both eyes this time. He averted his gaze from the man and struggled to get out of his embrace. Charlie wouldn't let go. Wonka kept struggling, getting messier as he did so. "You don't know what you're saying or what you're doing."

He stopped struggling, closed his eyes, and said with deep pain in his voice, "I'm a monster. You can't love monsters."

So, that's it. Charlie thought. That's what's been going on with Sebastian and the factory and all this insanity! The purchased little boy was to keep himself at bay and keep Willy…well, 'amused'. He still didn't exactly understand how the factory was tied into Mr. Wonka, but the thing seemed to expand and change at his mentor's every whim. If the man was convinced that he was a monster, then the whole place would change to reflect it. Hmm, he mused, it didn't really have that far to go. The Chocolate Factory seemed to walk a boundary between magical and creepy. Usually, so did its owner.

"You're scared." He said gently.

Wonka's looked back at him, mouth open, eyes accusatory, as if deeply offended. Quickly though, his face relaxed again. "Yes." He confessed. It sounded exactly like a child's voice.

Charlie smiled and looked into his friend's glossy eyes, "Willy, I like all of you; the good, the bad, the…really, really weird. I don't need you to be any different. I want you to share everything with me. Don't hide anything. I'm never going to hate you. Ever. Even if you killed me and ate me, I'd still be thrilled to forever be a part of you."

Sebastian giggled at that, then ducked, as Wonka, mouth coiled into a sneer, shot another menacing look his way. The candymaker was grateful to feel the power of his anger again, rather than the weakness of fear. He'd really enjoy having a target to aim all of his conflicting emotion at right now.

"Aw, c'mon, Willy, leave the kid alone." Charlie turned Wonka's square jaw back towards himself. "Why don't you pick on me for a while instead?"

"I can't." He said with a pinch more courage, but glancing away again. "You're my…weakness."

"No, I'm not." Corrected Charlie with awe in his voice, "I'm your STRENGTH. I'm the part of you that's still human." He clutched his chocolate covered fist to his heart.

Wonka's face lit up slightly at that statement. He hadn't thought about it that way before. He tilted his head, starring off into space, "Yeah."

"Yeah." Charlie repeated, moving to a less threatening crouching position above his mentor. The tensions of the previous moments released.

They both looked at each other for a long moment, like they were seeing each other for the first time. This time when Charlie leaned in for the kiss, Willy didn't hesitate or recoil, he let him. Instantly, the televisions went off and a few lights in the room flickered on. Sounds of machinery working inside the factory could once again be heard. Sebastian watched them and wondered, was it possible for an angel and a demon to fall in love with each other?

They pulled apart from each other with a soft sucking sound. Wonka reached over and wiped off some of the chocolate from the corner of Charlie's mouth. He licked it off his finger, exactly as he had done when his heir was thirteen.

"We're all really a mess." Charlie broke the silence in the solid white room. The statement had more than one meaning.

"Yeah, I know." Wonka said with a guilty expression.

Charlie suddenly slipped his arms under the man's body and lifted him up gently. Wonka was shocked, but not unpleasantly so. How had that little boy gotten so big? When did it happen?

"Let's go take a bath!" The striking young man said with a broad grin. He headed toward the Great Glass Elevator, his mentor just gazing at him from his arms. Charlie turned to the boy, "Bastian, can you even walk?" There was a touch of sarcasm in his tone. Willy still looked sheepish.

The boy carefully slid out of the reclined white chair, taking a few items with him before gingerly walking over to the Elevator door, joining the two of them. Wonka felt a cold tapping on his exposed shoulder, disturbing his trace. He looked down and saw Sebastian, in what was left of his Mike costume and the shiny black vest containing keys. The child was holding up his long cane. He had been tapping Wonka with the swirled ball on top of it. The boy had brought him the very thing that he had been beaten with. It was another remarkable gesture.

"Thank you." He said robotically, still very startled by his entire evening. The boy also handed him his previously discarded top hat. Maybe Charlie had some sort of magic too, pondered Mr. Wonka. He placed his top hat on top of Charlie's head despite the mook. The young man winked at him at the exact same moment that the elevator arrived with its joyful "ding!"

As the threesome stepped aboard the transparent elevator, Wonka caught Sebastian examining his protégé's pants. "Uh-uh, not gonna happen. Don't even think about it, ya little runt." The frail boy did his best to look innocently at the man, who was still being carried in Charlie's arms. The look was totally wasted considering how well viewed his talents had been earlier that evening.

Charlie looked down at the two of them, perplexed, "What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing." Said Wonka attempting an innocent face of his own, equally wasted.

Then he started again, his face looking quite cunning this time, "Just remember, that if you thought yer baby brother was talented, you ain't seen nothin' yet." And with that, the chocolatier slowly ran his own agile tongue along his smooth, white teeth; continuing to mesmerize his heir, as they whisked through the factory, back to their personal quarters.

Sebastian couldn't wait for Charlie to find out how complex and thorough Mr. Wonka's baths could be!

"**Ground Control to Major Tom?"**

EPILOGUE:

Sebastian woke up to just about the same scene every morning: one alabaster body on one side of him and one slightly tan one to the other. Despite protests from the occupants, he was very good at tricking his way into the room. The child stretched out and looked at the bruises and fresh whip marks across Charlie's body. He resisted the urge to lick any of them with a little grin (they were deeper than any the child ever suffered), but he did take a moment to trace the scar tissue of the "C" shaped brand above Mr. Wonka's heart. It went nice with the piercing.

Carefully the little boy slipped off the foot of the bed onto the pile of Willy's soft pajamas. While Charlie slept in the buff, Mr. Wonka came to bed wearing almost as many clothes as he wore during the day. Sebastian didn't know why he bothered; they almost always ended up on the floor anyway. He stretched out. Today was going to be a long day. He figured he might as well have a little fun before the odd couple woke up. He scampered out to the living room area.

Charlie always woke up first. Mr. Wonka was NOT a morning person. That was why he had set the time for the ticket winners to enter the factory at 10 a.m., not 8 or even 9:30. Still, they really ought to get started. The bedroom door was open and from outside he could make out little electronic noises and small grunts. 'Bastian, he thought. He preferred to address the child by that nickname. Something about the sound of it brought back a sense of fond childhood dreams...

As soon as he moved, all the stings of last night came back to him. It took a lot of effort not to make a single sound: neither one of pain nor pleasure. Willy believed that one reached higher levels of mental acuity through pain; that doing so was "most important for receiving divine inspiration". While Bastian's back had a few permanent marks, Charlie's body healed up perfectly, no matter how much Willy damaged it. This was a delightful after effect of one of the sleeping chocolatier's secrets; darker secrets that he had started to share with his heir in the past month.

The striking youth recalled the evening after they made love for the first time. He had been re-invited to dinner, this time WITHOUT his 'adopted' brother. The only thing on the table had been a jewel-encrusted goblet, filled with a bright red substance. Wonka was not seated, his hair had been re-cut into a bob, and only candlelight filled the room.

"Drink it." was the only explanation.

When Charlie didn't move, the man said ethereally, "If you really want to be with me forever…drink it."

Naturally he did; it was warm, salty, sweet and thick. It was not like any sort of alcohol that he had ever tasted. Charlie paused.

"All of it." Came another command. So, he did, every last drop.

"Like it?" Wonka had asked calmly. The dimness of his quarters made his luminescent skin the brightest thing in the room. His outfit was particularly lavish; an elaborately embellished aubergine velvet coat that brushed the floor and a shirt with a high, fanciful collar and matching cuffs poked out.

"Actually, yeah. Was it a new recipe then?" Charlie inquired while still tasting the foreign substance in his mouth.

"No, a very old one." Said his mentor with great weight. He pausing momentarily then finished. "It was my blood."

Charlie took a last look over his shoulder at the frightening and beautiful man that lay in the large, plush bed. He examined him in the various mirrors in their bedroom as well. The scar on the man's chest had been added with a special blue fire, it would not heal away. Neither would the one on Charlie's rear; he planned to show off his chest a bit more than Willy. A large "W" across his heart wouldn't have been very subtle. He smiled, then tiptoed into the living room, clutching Wonka's black and gold robe around his naked and damaged form.

Sebastian was sitting on the floor, surrounded by candy, playing video games with great enthusiasm. He did this while loudly chewing gum and wearing a look-a-like Veruca frock. Charlie covered his mouth to keep from bursting out loud with laughter. The petticoats were especially endearing, shuffling about as the little boy grinded at the joystick and buttons with his petite hands. They were gonna spoil the kid if they didn't watch it.

Later on that afternoon…

Willy stood just outside the factory doors, allowing guests to enter. Their was an ominous sense to his presence. Mr. Wonka was also nearly entirely dressed in black; standing like a fanciful crow guarding the structure.

"Oh look, he grew a goatee!" Came the sweet voice of Mrs. Bucket. She was wearing a lovely new dress that her son had bought for her. The pastel color went perfectly with her shoes and manicured nails. The strange fruit on her elaborate hat was entirely real.

"And cut his hair short." Followed Mr. Bucket's own kind voice. He was dressed in a new suit himself, proud to wear the trademark bowtie that his son usually did. Mr. Bucket was wearing a modest bolo hat, for he certainly would not want to compete with the candy maker.

"Good, maybe now he'll look like a man." Came the disgruntled voice of Grandpa George who was not dressed especially nice, however he was wearing a tie.

The family had passed through the towering metal gates, but still a great distance from the entrance of the grandiose factory itself. They could all swear that it looked more 'alive' than usual, yet still quite intimidating. Perhaps Mr. Wonka had added a new coat of paint they muttered.

Grandma Josephine could see him better as they got closer. She was wearing a wonderful red dress and a hat similar to her daughter's but with more fruits and a veil. Mr. Wonka seemed to like sending them hats and gloves. The striking woman raised her perfect white glove to her face and giggled, "He's also wearing a lot of eyeliner and the tallest heels I've ever seen on a man."

Grandpa George responded with, "Oh, for mercy's sake! I swear that mad old bat thinks he's Lucifer himself."

His wife, Grandma Georgina proceeded to hit him with her large purse, filled with knitting, for that remark. "You stop that right now! Mr. Wonka is a saint! He made us all young again and I think he's very handsome! If you want him to keep giving us those Wonkavite pills, you'd better be nice to him!" She puffed out her cheeks as one long curl fell into her face. Her mind worked just fine now, but she was still quite dreamy when it came to her grandson and Mr. Wonka.

Grandpa George just huffed in response, the rest of the family chuckling at their actions. It was always lively when the Buckets were around. Willy thought their accents made them all sound even more amusing. He had deliberately gotten rid of his many moons ago. It had reminded him of his father too much. The muscles of his jaw twisted just thinking about the strict man who raised him to the age of eleven. That was long, long, long ago, but his controlling parent had far more influence on him than he ever gave him credit for.

Mr. Wonka acted like he hadn't heard a word any of them had just said. His broad plastic smile covered his face and he tipped his hat to them before he elegantly bowed. "My darling Buckets, you all look scrumptious! Thank you for dressing for the evening. How good of you all to come."

Grandpa Joe had been glowing with pride in his old fashioned, but stylish get-up. He noticed how Charlie's initials had been added to the grand gates and adored seeing Mr. Wonka healthy, youthful, and comfortable in their presence. There was no one else in the world like him and he felt they scarcely deserved the gifts that he shared with them. "Thank you for hosting us, sir." He said graciously.

"Pfft! He just doesn't want to leave the factory." Grumbled Grandpa George, as Willy gestured them inside. Mr. Wonka was careful to stay several feet away from the family lest he be physically accosted by their affections.

Upon stepping inside, long mechanical arms descended on the family removing their coats for them before disappearing back into the impossible to see ceiling. They all gasped from shock.

"What happened to tossing them on the ground?" Asked Grandpa Joe.

"Huh? Oh, Charlie said it was bad manners to throw one's things on the floor, so I came up with that. Neat, huh?" He grinned. The arms also could lift entire human being still in their coats, should his guests be less than welcome. Yes, their boy had all sorts of ways of inspiring him. "Come on, party's this way." He fluttered his hand and turned back around, swishing down the red carpet.

Grandpa George mimicked Mr. Wonka's fanciful walk down the factories main corridor until he was severely pinched by his wife. Mr. and Mrs. Bucket just grinned at each other. Admittedly, they themselves had attempted to copy the eccentric Willy Wonka at times. It could be quite fun to dress up as him! Mrs. Bucket blushed a little thinking of her husband in the top hat and cane. She thought he looked much better in the get-up than she did.

Inside the Chocolate Room, their old home still stood. They smiled at that, how sentimental they thought. However, it was also a kind of dollhouse for a certain new occupant. The sprawling room was filled with flowers on top of the usual bizarre candy growths. Further, a large playground and a few amusement rides had been added around the old wooden house. The Buckets were filled with astonishment! Just when you thought you knew him entirely, the amazing choclatier always had another surprise up his stylish sleeves.

"Look at all the flowers! How did you get them all to grow so big?" Said Grandma Georgina while looking at all the large, beautiful, strange blooms. There were blue, purple, and even black-on-yellow ones everywhere. One dare not touch them though, for the long vines were covered in menacing thorns whose tips ended in red.

Mr. Wonka looked right at Grandpa Joe with a quirky grin before he responded to Grandma Georgina. "Why because I'm Willy Wonka. I can do anything."

"Charlie will have very big shoes to fill." Said Grandma Josephine with trepidation. Her new trim figure emphasized the clinging material of her gown.

"Big shoes with high heels." Joked Grandpa George, causing glares from his family.

"Oh these?" Said Wonka sweetly, tapping his shoes with his cane. "These are so I can look into your grandson's eyes." He held his stare into Grandpa George's slightly lined face, attempting to add implication to the statement. His face quickly shifted back to innocence, "He's quite the beanpole now you know."

"Where IS Charlie?" Inquired his mother, looking about the many distractions in the room.

Wonka gracefully pointed with his cane over to a large table where a well-dressed man in a short top hat was busily directing many tiny, identical men. The men were all wearing shiny jumpsuits and hurriedly setting up a long table with a bounty of elaborate and exotic foods.

"CHARLIE!" They all called in unison and started to rush over. The young man turned to look over his shoulder: his face in profile, a smile tugged at the corner his mouth, one deep dimple visible. He was completely clean-shaven and his hair was tied loosely below his shoulders.

His mother gasped, "Charlie, your hair got so long!" She picked up the silky chestnut ponytail that fell to her son's waist. The rest of the family was smothering him in kisses, hugs, and attention.

From a distance Willy Wonka watched in slight revulsion. "Blech."

"Uh-huh, Wonka fixed the hair toffee." Responded the tall young man. "I grew this, this morning, before you got here. Willy decided to cut his, but he took the one that gives you facial hair. We're experimenting before it's released for market!" Charlie had said all of this quite excitedly, exactly like the little boy they all loved. He was resplendent in a pastel aqua suit, suspenders embroidered with various candies, and a golden "C" at his throat where his bow ties usually were.

"Yes well, throw some your Grandpa George's way once it's all settled." Stated Grandma Georgina, glad to poke fun at her husband's expense for all of his rude comments. Despite looking more youthful and having darker hair, there was still a distinct lack of it on top of his head.

"So, where is he?" Said Grandpa Joe changing the subject.

"Hm?" Charlie responded, bending down while his mother wiped the lipstick marks off his cheek.

"What's his name, Wonka's adopted son." Insisted Grandpa George with a furrowed brow.

"Oh." Said Charlie, buying a little time as Willy approached, one arm behind his back.

Grandma Josephine was still facing her grandson, "I still don't understand Charlie. Why did he do this? I mean, you're still going to inherit the factory, aren't you?"

Charlie gave a nod, "Most indubitably."

Mr. Bucket chuckled, "Indubitably? You're starting to sound and look like him!"

From behind them Wonka chirped, "That's not a bad thing is it?"

Grandpa George was ready with a retort as usual, "Not as long as he's still able to say parents."

Charlie chuckled and his smile grew broader, "Go ahead, show 'em."

Wonka pushed forward a very nervous, adorably dressed little boy. He had on a tiny fancy suit that had both black and aqua accents to it. The sleeves had lace at the ends and a thin ribbon was tied in a bow around his neck. "This is Sebastian. I'm his p-p-paaa," an actual sound was coming out of his mouth; it was an improvement on the usual gurgles. Charlie emphatically gestured for him to continue. "aaarrrent." Wonka barely managed to finish.

"Stars above." Said Grandpa Joe. The whole family applauded! Mr. Wonka smiled proudly. Sebastian hid behind Wonka again, clinging desperately to the material of his black tailcoat. He was petrified about meeting new people, much like the man calling himself his father. He stared at Charlie's family, they all looked so…young. It was rather startling. However, they all also looked very nice. His eyes swelled up while he peeked out at them.

Mr. and Mrs. Bucket had bent down to study the boy with sweet smiles on their faces.

"He's as cute as a bug's ear!" enthused Mrs. Bucket. Charlie's own mother didn't look much older than her son.

"He looks just like our Charlie did at his age." Noticed Mr. Bucket. Sebastian made a shy smile at him.

"PREcisely! Now you can see why I had to adopt him! The poor thing was shivering and starving right outside of my factory, staring into the gates. He has no family at all and looks just like Charlie. How could I resist?" Wonka had said all of this with great drama and exaggeration. Charlie even rolled his eyes at one part, making Sebastian grin again. However, the Buckets seemed to eat up the story with a spoon.

"Besides, Charile belonged to you. I never got to experience the joys of actually raising a child myself." Mr. Wonka finished his statement while stroking the boy's chin with his gloved hand. He hoped to make them all feel a little guilty with that last statement.

"See!" Shouted Grandma Georgina to her husband. "He is a kind, wonderful man!"

"Indeed." Agreed the lanky Grandpa Joe.

"Ahh, why don't we all sit down and have dinner now." Charlie said with a nervous smile.

The long table was finally ready.

Wonka and Charlie sat next to each other in matching throne-like chairs. Wonka had placed the boy on his knee. Fortunately, no found the gesture over the top. Rather the family saw it as a sign that the chocolatier had progressed even further. Charlie let out a small sigh of relief.

Among the guests at the long table were the Oompa-loompas themselves; the leaders of each specialized team. That had also been Charlie's idea, to honor them along with introducing his family to the new addition. Sebastian's eyes were bulging; he was still adjusting to the tiny people that had been permitted to reveal themselves. He kinda liked it better when he thought Mr. Wonka was doing everything with psychic powers. This seemed even creepier, but the little men all made a tiny smile at the boy. Whatever pleased Willy Wonka, pleased them. He was a God to them; a cruel and vengeful one, that the heathens gleefully worshipped.

"Open up and say ah!" Said Mr. Wonka, holding a forkful of food towards the boy.

Sebastian looked at it and shook his head. Mr. Wonka frowned.

"It's meat." Said Charlie. "He won't eat it. He's a vegetarian, remember?" Sebastian was petrified to eat any meat at all in the factory. He was convinced that every morsel was a former human being. Willy seemed to forget this almost every time they ate together.

"How sensitive." Enthused Grandma Josephine. The boy still couldn't get over how lovely she was for a middle-aged woman. No wonder Charlie was so attractive; his mother's side of the family was very good-looking! But then, Mr. Bucket had a kind of appeal too. He shyly smiled his way.

Mr. Bucket nodded and smiled back, holding up a glazed baby carrot on his fork. "Mmm, Vegetables! Very healthy, what a good kid that you eat them without protest."

Just then, Mr. Wonka pulled something out of his coat pocket. It was a very shiny, perfect-looking apple. "Here then." He said, handing it to the boy. "I found this growing this very afternoon, I was going to save it for myself, but you should have it."

Sebastian took the apple and gladly crunched into it. Mr. Wonka's apples were probably his favorite thing to eat! Well, his favorite thing to eat that wasn't created by Mr. Wonka's own person. He blushed a little thinking how good the two might taste together.

Again the Buckets gave each other approving looks and mutters. Sacrifice was very parental.

"Are you still sure that you want us to take the boy for a week then?" Said Mrs. Bucket.

Sebastian stopped munching on his apple.

"Oh yes, quite." Responded Wonka, in his usual musical tone, arm wrapped around the boy's tiny waist.

"I know you'll take good care of him. Charlie and I need time to mesh, really connect as "partners", ya know? I found this kid while he was visiting you guys, so we haven't had a single moment to ourselves." There was an imperceptible annoyance at the end of his statement, but Sebastian was quite attuned to his Master's, his "daddy's" nuances. It was true that Mr. Wonka worked to keep Charlie and Sebastian romantically separated from each other: possessive of them both.

Right then the child actually tried to speak without being spoken to, but not a sound came out of his throat. He pulled his free hand up to his neck and looked up at Mr. Wonka. He widened his eyes at the boy and wiggled his eyebrows twice.

"Oh. I also forgot to tell you that he's mute." Stated Mr. Wonka while returning his gaze to the family. This time he even surprised Charlie who choked and gave a very quizzical face to the chocolate maker, then looked at Sebastian holding his throat.

"The poor thing!" Said Grandma Josephine.

"Hey, I'm liking this kid better by the minute! I don't have to share my steak with him and he never utters a peep!" Stated Grandpa George in a way that reminded Charlie of his new lover. Willy did in fact give a wide grin to the man in return for the comment. Sometimes he and Grandpa George did get along.

"Do you use sign language to communicate then?" Asked Mr. Bucket, who was as good at learning new skills as Charlie himself.

"Ah, well, we're still both learning." Staggered Mr. Wonka.

"I suppose we could just give him pad or paper then." Said Mrs. Bucket, rummaging through her designer purse.

"Nope, he doesn't read or write." The family's faces got even more sympathetic.

"Oh, Don't worry, he can hear just fine and is very obedient." Usually, he thought. Wonka then took a large bite from his plate and averted his gaze from everyone. They went on to discuss all the ways they could take care of the boy in the following week, using lots of hand gestures and raising their voices, despite Mr. Wonka having told them the boy could hear just fine. He gave Sebastian a kiss on the cheek to reassure the child. It did make him feel better. He continued eating the apple and rubbed his cheek, the whiskers tickled.

Charlie was not told about this little development. Both men had agreed to leave the visit with Charlie's parents a secret; they believed Bastian would panic otherwise and probably hide. He couldn't get over what a big trick Willy had managed to pull on everyone just then. There must have been something in that apple. That sneak!

He waited until after dinner while his parents were enjoying the entertainment that the Oompa-loompas were providing to siddle up to his friend and lover. Sneaking up behind Wonka, while he was enjoying the beats and rhythms of the songs, he gripped his ass very hard.

"OH!" Mr. Wonka yelped, followed by a peeved look at Charlie.

"You better watch yerself or I'm not gonna let you anywhere near me with that…jackhammer of yours." He scolded, while peering over at Charlie's family who were taking turns cuddling a panicky looking Sebastian.

Yeah, that'll be the day, thought Charlie. Willy took great pleasure in directing him in exactly how to use it: how deep, how fast, and where. "Why didn't you tell me about that? He's not gonna STAY a mute is he?"

Wonka grinned smugly, his wispy mustache accenting the movement. Facial hair was a bad idea for Willy; it made him look far more devious than usual. "Only until I give him the antidote…next week. I certainly wasn't going to risk a SECOND disaster with that little blabbermouth." He flipped his glossy, black glove in the direction of the boy.

"Oh, are we a disaster?" Stated Charlie in an amused tone.

"Only as paaarrrrents." He responded wryly. "Look, you know what I mean, I didn't want to hafta kill yer entire family, Kay? You should be THANKING me." The heavy eyeliner combined with the goatee made all of his usual expressions even more ambiguous. He finished his statement by poking his forefinger against Charlie's hard chest.

"Really? Well, I'll bear that in mind tonight." Charlie said, unintimidated, he got even closer behind the man, slipping his arms around the exotic, textured leather of the vest and nipping at his neck. Ah, there were those familiar sparks. Short hair made getting to that pale, sensitive neck so much easier. Wonka leaned back his head, closed his eyes and allowed himself to briefly enjoy the sensations. Dozens more of the exotic flowers blossomed with their embrace.

"You do that." Said Willy, reaching back and yanking hard on Charlie's long ponytail. If the kid didn't quit it, he'd have even more nervous explaining to do to the Buckets. This was quite enough for now.

"Ugh!" Charlie made the usual sound of pain mixed with pleasure. He released his…his 'everything' really…now. He thought about the statement he had made to the man so long ago when he said that he wouldn't give up his family for anything in the world. Now, he felt the exact same way about Willy Wonka himself. The constant game of give and take only fueled his emotions.

Charlie rubbed at his scalp, pushing his hat forward into one eye. "Can't we at least tell Bastian?"

"Nuh-uh." Said Mr. Wonka slowly. He raised his bold dark eyebrow, "Let the little booger suffer."

By the time the family left for the evening, Sebastian was feeling a lot more comfortable with the Buckets. They really were simple, nice people. He'd never known anyone like them. Charlie and Wonka stood at the door with one arm on the other's shoulder, waving good-bye.

"See ya in a week, little brother! Have fun!" Charlie called out.

Sebastian gave a little wave back. Wonka made a 'shush' motion to the boy. Despite his current condition, he still felt compelled to blow a kiss to the odd man. In a way his muteness was a punishment and a gift. Another form of bondage, a constant reminder of his Master. Wonka pretended to catch the kiss and noticed that the child's other hand was clasped into Mr. Bucket's.

"Hey, he really seems to like yer father." Said Mr. Wonka with a giggle.

"So he does." Said Charlie, with slight concern.

"Oh, relax. They'll be fine." The chocolatier was still giggling though. The Buckets would keep everything secret, he knew that because they couldn't even reveal that some of them were still alive. They kept a very low profile. It was part of the deal for getting the Wonkavite. After all, most people didn't live to be 112, let alone four of them who looked 40. It was interesting how one secret could so easily lead to more. And how he loved being the impetus to them all. Now, even the innocent Buckets were part of his unnatural universe.

"C'mon, I wanna give you a surprise!" Wonka suddenly shouted and scampered away from Charlie, back into the Chocolate Room, never once using the cane. The old man could still move quickly when he wanted to!

The Oompa-loompas were completely gone and had taken all of the evidence of the party with them. Charlie chased Willy into the dilapidated old house. Inside placed on the rough kitchen table, there were two cupcakes and a medium-sized box with handmade paper and edible ribbon. Wonka took the term 'ribbon candy' very seriously. Charlie grinned like a schoolboy at him.

"I wanted us to have a special little celebration of our own. A way to start off our week together." Explained Wonka.

"This is so thoughtful!" He kissed Willy on the cheek as they entered the house and sat down at his old table. The cupcake and candy ribbon didn't last long, part of it fed to him. He ripped into the gift, anxious to see what could be inside. Charlie was stunned when it turned out to be his old clothes. He blinked confounded at Willy.

"What are these for? They're much too small for me to fit into." At that exact same moment, the table and chair seemed to be growing larger, then his arms seemed to shrink inside his suit. Eventually, he was the exact size of Sebastian. The exact size he was when he first came to live in the factory. He gaped at Willy.

"Surprise!" Came a broad grin.

"Half a pill of Wonkavite. It was in the cup cake." He stated very matter-of-factly. Perhaps one should never eat anything given to them by Willy Wonka, but his heir didn't care. Whatever the famous confectioner wanted to give him, he would take, and with gratitude.

"I've got a syringe with Vitawonk in my coat pocket if ya really hate it." Said Wonka walking over and staring intensely down at him. "I've also got more ribbon candy."

The very small Charlie Bucket grinned up at him and in an equally small British voice he simply said, "I love you."

"I love you too." Willy said hypnotized, pulling out scissors from his pocket to cut the long hair off with.

"Now…put on the clothes."

Finale

**Author's Notes:**

**As usual all reviews are welcome until the end of time. Extra points if you are a lurker or someone who doesn't usually review; that REALLY makes my day, but not as much as hearing from my merry band of usual followers. Won't you join our cult?**


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